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marwhoa · 10 months

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request: You write the turtles boys so well! I literally can't stop smiling when I read your fics - they're so sweet and endearing. I was wondering, only if it strikes your interest of course, if you'd consider writing about the boys being jealous of each other when the reader spends time with them one on one? Like, maybe a slot for Leo where he thinks reader finds Donnie funnier? Or one for mikey, where he thinks that reader likes how big raph is? Or for raph, where he thinks reader is more enamored with Leo? Or Donnie, where he worries that Mikey is flirting with reader? Of course they're all misunderstandings, and maybe it could end all fluffy with confessions and comforting their respective boy? If not, don't worry, but if so, thank you! 1 look forward to whatever you put out next.

🝮 “ green with envy ”

rise!boys x y/n

author’s note: screaming profusely !!! eeeee !!! So hey yeah here’s a fic, this took a while because it sat in my notes for days before I finally posted it, my bad. This was kinda hard cause I’m not experienced in the realm of jealousy—hopefully y’all like it? ᗡ: also does envy even fit this scenario? Lmao I just be naming these fics any thing, can y’all tell?

word count: 6.1k

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Leo 💌

Leo never expected he could ever become… jealous, not him—no, no, NEVER him. He had too much pride, too much confidence. There should have never been any room for doubt in his ability to keep you focused and adoring on him, and him alone.

But, perhaps he had given himself too much credit? Or, maybe he had given his twin too little credit.

It wasn’t as though you were his. Just friends, and technically that meant you belonged to the whole family, not just him. But, no one could blame him for coveting you. From how starry-eyed you looked at him to how genuinely you laughed at his jokes, Leo found out too late that he had been falling for you, and here he was still falling. The way your nose crinkled when you laughed, or how your face lit up during Mikey’s dinner times, even down to the wheezing laugh you would give into if he pushed his jokes on too long, all of it spelled out lovely disaster for his heart.

But, fear not, he thought. He was the face man and the funniest turtle, surely there was no competition? No one could be better than him at getting you to make the faces you did.

Or well, it should’ve been no one. He wasn’t even all that funny, but Donnie managed to get you to keel over to some stuff he said—and he didn’t even intend for them to be jokes! A natural comic, can you believe the nerve of this guy?

So, yeah, Leo never expected himself to be jealous, and especially never towards his own brother, but god the way you were showing that tickled-silly expression to Donnie, wiping tears as he confusedly asked what was so funny? It had him gripping the arm of their couch, digging his nails into them. He wasn’t going to take this any longer! Sure Donnie meant no harm and would never try to swoop in and steal the prize he had his eye on, but Leo couldn’t help but still be… aggravated.

The pent-up annoyance was dispelled by the red-slider leaping over the couch, sassily walking over and snaking his arm across your waist.

“ Yeah, whatever, Donnie is sooo funny, but hey, Y/N, let me show you something better! ”

Never mind the fact that he had nothing planned as he twirled his katana in his other hand, slicing the air until a blue portal shimmered into existence. You glanced back and waved good bye to Donnie, fully intrigued by whatever it was Leo wanted to show you.

“ Oh—okay! What is it? ”

“ Who am I to ruin a surprise? ”

He cocked a brow at your question, tugging you through the portal and stepping out into the courtyard of the Witch’s city. While amazed, you wondered just what this had to do with anything—but, of course that was a comment you would keep to yourself until having fully exhausted the excitement of exploring not just any random town, but rather a town of witches!

“ Oh, Leo, finally! I’ve been begging you to bring me here for weeks! ”

Before he could even say anything, you were quickly rushing up to the nearest shop and sparking up conversation. Such a busy bee, but it was just another aspect of you he was captivated by. However, with such an impromptu visit to a rather overwhelming area, he found chances to spark conversation and get you to laugh to be stretched few and far between.

“ Oh wow, this store really doesn’t leave mushroom for walk-through, huh? ”

He gestured to a potions-ingredients shop, which, you guessed it, specialized in all things fungal-based. His shoulders drooped as you continued ahead, not even hearing him. That joke was gold! Huffing, Leo caught up with you and laced his fingers around your wrist, effortlessly stopping you in your tracks.

“ Mm? Leo? ”

You stared up at him with such a look of focus, all your attention finally fully on him, and he had to fight his legs not to reduce to jelly instantly. Instead, he took a deep breath, cocked his head, and insisted you follow him.

Down weaving alleys, through crowds of people, eventually you reached a park unlike any seen on the surface. The paths were lined with thick, luscious plants cultivated through the town’s magic. Foliage swayed with no wind, as though dancing like silk fabric to whatever music only they heard.

Your attention only left the plants when you heard Leo start clearing his throat and then flashing you a look that you recognized all too well. A grin was already tugging at your lips, and Leo finally felt like he was the only one in your world again. His hands held onto his belt and he kicked out his legs, faking as though he were tipping a hat. It seemed like some western cowboy impersonation?

“ What in carnation? ”

There you went, first with a light and short laugh.

“ Well I do say, I took a leaf of faith bringing you here,”

Which then melded into a series, topped with a “ Wait, Leo, hush—please! ”, all stuttered and peppered through your increasing laughter.

“—but, beleaf it or not—“

He wasn’t even able to finish the entire spiel before you were holding onto him, laughing with such a melodious voice. Which, of course, devolved into your trademark wheeze n’snort after dragging on too long.

“ Pwffhaaha!! Leo, wha-what’s with you today? ”

You wiped away a tear, and suddenly Leo was finally brought back to reality. Your hand on his forearm lingered, and he was just completely beside himself with how the glowing willows beside the garden softened your face ever-so-perfectly.

“ Y/N… ”

His voice was so uncharacteristically soft that it had you a tad bit spooked, hand gripping a teensy tighter. Your head cocked slightly in confusion.

“ I.. Ugh, okay, it’s—it’s dumb! But—“

He dragged his hands down his face, groaning exhaustedly.

“ I thought, maybe, you might’ve… Liked Donnie, more than me. ”

“ Huh? Why would you think that, I love all of you guys? ”

“ Yeah, but I love you, and—“

The shock painted on your face had him holding his breath. Alarms went off in his head, telling him he maybe should have held his tongue, not jumped ahead so quickly. The two of you searched each other’s eyes in silence, you recovering from what he said, and him preparing himself for what you would say. Soon enough, your face twisted into a confusion tinged with a bit of playfulness.

“ Wait a second.. You’re jealous, aren’t you? Of Donnie? What for? ”

“ What? What do you mean what for? You, you’ve been laughing at everything he said all day, don’t you think he’s funnier? Don’t you like him more?! ”

If it weren’t his dumb puns and act earlier, it was this that would do you in.

“ Leo, you dummy! Sure I was laughing, but that doesn’t mean I like him more than you, I just, well… ”

It was your turn to be a bit bashful as your eyes looked everywhere except him.

“ I, well.. You’re my favorite, Leo, not Donnie.. ”

As you batted your eyes at him, hoping he would connect the dots thoroughly, your answer was given in the form of his beaming expression as he swept you into his arms, spinning.

“ Ah-hah! So you do like me—and I’m the funnier turtle!? ”

“ Oh no, I shouldn’t have said anything, now you’re too powerful! ”

Playfully you cried, leaning back with your hand dramatically draped across your forehead. Leo chuckled at your antics leaning in to lay his head against your stomach as he tightened his hold firmly.

This was definitely something he would rub in his brother’s face later on—and said brother would be profusely confused by what brought it on???

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Mikey 💌

Mikey was the last turtle you ever considered could suffer from the classic ailment of “ jealousy ”, and you couldn’t help but feel both ashamed yet intrigued.

While you weren’t too sure what it was that had got him so riled up, you were observant enough to see the way his eyes lit up with a startling emotion. At first it was impossible to pinpoint, just a glimpse of something indiscernible yet startling that crept into his blue hues at the oddest of times.

The first time you had seen that frightful emotion peek its head was during a date. The two of you had decided to hit a bar late at night, him donning a cloaking brooch, of course.

When you arrived, the loud music was entrancing, luring you both onto the dance floor to get lost in each other’s arms. The music coiled around you both, closing the gap to a suffocatingly tight end, as if either of you couldn’t stand any sort of distance apart. The floor vibrated, from both the booming speakers and the music reverberating the whole building alongside the dancing bodies around you both.

Mikey beamed with the brightest smile, and you just knew he was laughing, albeit drowned out from the ambiance. You were both having the time of your lives. Absorbed into a bubble fit for only the two of you, eyes locked on each other, neither party was ready for the stranger’s hands that snaked around your waist, pulling you in without any mind paid to you already having a devoted dance partner.

Chills set in and you turned to Mikey instantly, locking eyes, but the look in his eyes was enough to have your voice hitch in your throat.

That night ended with you both getting kicked out after Mikey wailed on the guy, but after a while, you both laughed and talked all about the fight on the way home.

The next time you saw that look was when you were hanging out with Leo while waiting for Mikey to return back from patrol. He had invited you over, and you planned to do it after wrapping up a few things, so he figured he could finish a patrol and be ready for you when you got done.

Unfortunately for him, you happened to finish your escapade much too early, and thus were at the lair awaiting his return. Leo happened to pass by, so you roped him into a conversation to bide the time. When Mikey did eventually come home, he stepped in to see you nearly keeled over in laughter.

You had been laughing so hard that when you noticed Mikey, you gave a weak wave and continued dying. He was curious what the joke was, but Leo simply shook his head and left, his own laugh dwindling down the hall. Once you recovered and were on your feet, you caught that same scary emotion swirling in his eyes. He tightened his lips and only softened when he turned to you.

More and more questions arose as you came to experience this look time and time again in all kinds of situations, but the one that finally made all the clicks pop into place was his outburst after you were with Raph.

He had been taking care of some villains on patrol with Mikey when you had ended up in the wrong place, wrong time. Their battle had turned to a violent one, with the villain bashed straight into a wall. Debris crumbled down right as you turned the corner, eyes shooting up to see parts of the building falling towards you. There was no time to move, so you just closed your eyes shut right and braced yourself.

But, no pain ever came, just a bit of dust. You opened your eyes, seeing a huge shadow casted over your body, and when you looked up?

It was Raph, who blocked the falling debris with his mighty shell.

“ Raph! “

You yelped, heart thundering in your chest, and Mikey misunderstood the shimmer in your eyes as Raph rose to full height, throwing the concrete off and away. He misinterpreted why you hugged him so tightly when he scooped you up, taking you away from the damage and ushering you to run the other way.

When you’re focusing on the wrong things, it’s easy to get the signs wrong, and boy had the ache in Mikey’s heart got everything so totally wrong. You liked Raph, didn’t you? Why else would you look at him like that? Did you like it when folks were bigger than you, unlike him who simply had an inch or two on you?

How could he be so stupid?

So, that’s how you ended up where you were now, seconds from entering your apartment when Mikey met you with a sour look on his face. You noticed that same glint in his eyes, still trying to piece together what it meant.

“ Why didn’t you tell me? ”

His voice wavered, and you responded with a hum of confusion. Inviting him in, he closed the door behind you both. His lips tugged down as he searched everywhere for the words to say. Finally, he found them and settled back on you as you were putting things down and unwinding.

“ With Raph! You like him, don’t you?! ”

“ Wha? ”

“ You—You! ”

He seemed frustrated, wracking his brain until finally he threw his hands out and shouted.

“ DO YOU LOVE RAPH MORE BECAUSE HE’S SO BIG?! ”

Silence blanketed you both as you processed his words. Finally, you placed a word on the emotion you always saw in his eyes. Struggling not to laugh at the absurdity, you snorted and shook your head.

“ Jealousy! That’s wh—wait, no, Mikey, no, I don’t ‘Love Raph cause he’s big’ ”

“ Then why do you like him more!? ”

“ Where is this coming from, Mikey, I don’t like Raph like that—I like you. ”

You stepped closer, and Mikey let you in. Your hands reached up, cupping his cheeks, and he leaned into them with such a desperation that you felt bad for finding this whole situation so silly.

“ Just, you always seem so happy when he’s around, and whenever he saves you instead, you always.. ”

His eyes were elsewhere as he spoke, almost as though he were seeing the absurdity in it all now with a clearer mind.

“ Ahh, mhmm, yup, alright so Mikey usually people are very happy when they’re saved from danger—and I mean, I probably look happy cause I’m friends with him too, but I’m dating you, silly. ”

You booped his snoot, smiling as his eyes lit up with the love you were accustomed to seeing them full of.

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Raph 💌

If there was any one of the brothers full of insecurities, it would come as no surprise as the spotlight shone upon the red turtle, atop the winner’s pedestal. As someone who once led his brothers in the face of battle, who grew up with the elder sibling curse of forced parenthood, it came as no shock that there were a couple of problems sprinkled into his character.

While he had spent much of his life up to this point recovering and healing from what dared chip at his exterior, there was more than a few bits of stubborn grime that lingered on his surface. It ate away at him, leaving behind vulnerabilities.

Then you came along, and throughout the honeymoon period he experienced nothing but delights. Never had the negative Nancy in his brain perked up to talk her shit, misleading him in circles until he was a mess of unbundled, tangled up rope.

You were a light, something that seemed to power wash the grime away, cake over it with your delicate touch and sweet words. Much smaller than he, you were probably one of the kindest humans he met, someone he cherished more than life itself.

And that, in and of itself, was a vulnerability. You were his weakness, and the shrewd dark spots in his brain couldn’t wait for the rose-colored glass to shatter and let them sink their teeth into this beauteous opportunity.

The sensible part of him knew your kindness knew no ends, that it wasn’t limited or excluded to simply him or a select few. In fact, your sweet demeanor shared with his brothers? It was a breath of relief—it was an understatement to say he had been nervous to introduce you to the family. You were okay with him because he saved you, but his brothers and father weren’t present. They hadn’t been the heroes slamming down against concrete, scaring away the silverfish that preyed upon you one fateful night.

Turns out the trash-eaters had a hankering for good food, and you, all alone, on your way back home with a doggy-bag from Cleo’s Beach Shack, served to be the perfect target.

The night had been quiet, albeit suspiciously so, but your full tummy and weary limbs had their guard fully down. You daydreamed of the bed awaiting you at home, arms beckoning you forth with pillowy softness.

That delightful image was disturbed by the sudden rustling and clank you heard from behind. Turning, your eyes shooed away dreamland and were alert. An empty can rolled from a bush, tinking into someone’s trash can at the curb. Not a soul in sight, so surely it must have been one of New York’s infamous rats? Y’know, that creature that is practically extinct in this city, like there’s no way you would ever see them—definitely not at the metro nor the coffee shop, and surely never this residential street with primo rat hot-spots such as unsupervised trash cans full of food waste.

Yeah, of course, must have been a rat. You’re so paranoid, just hurry on home, nothing bad will happen. Nothing bad ever happens to pretty little guys like you, alone on dimly lit streets, lined with houses whose doors are locked to high hell.

Nothing bad, especially not like the cold metal that clamped firmly on your ankle. Never anything as worse as the chilling growl from whatever tripped you up, glaring with red eyes and flicking a long, sharp-looking tail.

“ Oh sh—“

Your voice feebly complained, raising into a scream to the heavens above as it lunged towards you.

Or well, towards your to-go bag, but who’s paying attention to the little things like that when your life is flashing before your eyes?

Thankfully, the end never came. There was the sound of a growling struggle after a tremor shook your shivering frame, and as you opened your eyes to peek at whatever held up your attacker, a silhouette towered over you. He casted a long shadow over you, which should have been intimidating as hell, but instead it left you feeling…

Safer?

In his hand laid two identical buggers, squirming and chomping with animalistic hunger. This had to have been worse than the rats, you’d take the rats any day, at least they weren’t massive.

… well okay, they are, but this is a whole ‘nother level.

The most shocking part was this giant hero taking a step back, assuming the position of a pitcher, and launching the creatures into the distance. There may have been a glint shining, and was that the cheer of an audience you were hearing? No, that was your imagination, obviously.

But you were not imagining this guy in front of you. Much too tall to be human, unless it was some basketball lead who somehow had balls of steel to save a stranger.

Every warning sign imaginable was washed away without a trace as your savior turned around and shot a shaky smile, warm as a summer sun.

“ S-Sorry about that, are ya okay? ”

He spoke with the timidness of someone a fourth his size, and you couldn’t help but be completely charmed to death.

From that day you would see him more and more, to the point that it felt as if maybe he had been appointed your personal body guard. Ah, but, you didn’t really mind, did you? You loved his company and his toothy grins. You adored his warm, gentle hugs, and it was too sweet how you could feel his hands tremble as they held yours ever so delicately.

So yeah, he worried to introduce you to his family, but the way you brightened up the room instantly had him starstruck. You’re perfect, that’s it. That’s the tweet.

The rosey glass shattered after a few lingering months of dating. His insecurities reared their heads, resting sharp grips on his shoulders as they whispered in his ears all kinds of falsities. You liked his brothers, but maybe you liked his brothers? Why else would you be so nice to them?

And, maybe that’s why you were smiling at Leo like that? Raph is right here, so why were you talking to his brother? He couldn’t even focus enough to heard you both holding the most mundane conversation ever about some shop that opened up over on Moore’s. He steeped in the tea of jealousy, filling his senses to the brim with worry.

The worst part about it was that if you liked Leo, he couldn’t even blame you. Leo was like water, while Raph was stone. Raph stood still, he could be bossy at times, while Leo was a spunky little river that would keep you on your toes. Leo was never boring, and he could keep a smile on your face for as long as the day lasted..

But he didn’t want any of that to be true. None of it.

The conversation was stopped by a meek voice asking for your time, attention shifting from Brother Blue to your beloved, clad in what became your favorite color in these past few months.

“ Y/N, can we talk? ”

Ignoring Leo’s nudge and teasing “ ooooooohs ”, you nodded with a smile, following Raph with a pep in your step.

“ Of course, dear. ”

That lead to the silence you currently shared—with him leaning against the wall of his room, gaze fixated on some smudges on the floor. That should be cleaned up, he thought, trying to not think of how you were sat on his bed, awaiting whatever it was he needed off his chest.

“ Raph? ”

You were the first to talk, already well acquainted with your love’s tiptoeing when it came to any sort of conversation that might be unsavory. You watched as he twisted his expression, tightening his lips—whatever it was, it was bothering him profusely, and you couldn’t help the pang gripping your heart..

“ Raph…? ”

Again, your voice seemed weaker this time. That was what gave him the drive to speak, he couldn’t handle leaving you in such a state, he needed to know if these worries of his were dumb!

“ Do you like Leo? ”

“ What. ”

Your response was so fast and curt, the product of being completely taken off guard with a left hook. There were plenty of other ideas you had for the direction of this conversation, such as having beaten his leftovers last week or how you have his favorite hoodie in your laundry basket right now. Maybe even the secret trips to Donnie’s, who was currently helping you get together a gift for Raph’s birthday next month. A particularly low worry even fretted that this might be a conversation about your relationship and how it should end.

But, instead it’s about Leo? What an easy question to answer!

“ Sorry, I didn’t mean that, I mean to say no. ”

Raph’s shoulders loosened and a breath of relief slipped out of him—when had he even started holding his breath?? Never mind that. You snorted at the absurd thought of liking Leo of all people.

“ Why would I like Leo? Raph, c’mere. ”

You held your hands out, and the way his hands fell into yours spelled out a desperation to be close to you. With a gentle tug, he climbed onto his bed, and you melted into his chest. A storm was brewing in his chest, his heart thundering nervously.

“ Ya just, Raph don’t know, something—he, just… Raph was worried, s’all. Afraid ya preferred him over a… ”

While he was searching for whatever word to insult himself with, you captured his attention with a gentle peck on the lips. Your fingers gently held his chin, turning his focus to lay fully on you.

“ Over a charming, handsome hero? ”

There was that adorable smile, peppering his lips as a light laugh erupted from his chest.

“ You think I’d prefer Leo, who is a risky little ticking time bomb, over my knight in shining armor? ”

He whispered a rebuttal, something along the lines of “ he really is, huh? ”

“ Oh Raph-a-doodle, never could I want anyone other than you. ”

Leaning up, you pressed your forehead against his and gazed into his eyes. They searched yours for a hint of deceit, for anything to latch onto and spiral about, but all he found was warmth.

Thus, the jealousy flame died out, and he plummeted backwards against his bed, dragging you down with him. He gave a heavy exhale as you giggled atop his plastron, scolding him for being so silly.

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Donnie 💌

The green of jealousy was a hue you never expected to be painted across the purple canvas you called your boyfriend, but surely there is a chance for any reality to blossom true, right?

Jealousy had sewn seeds far before either of you could catch on, oblivious to the roots which spiraled and narrowed vision to see only one option as opposed to the myriad of other reasonings. You had poured love into your dearest Donnie, so much so that you couldn’t even fathom any room for jealousy. How could he ever be jealous? Surely he knows full and well just how you look at him? Obviously he knows just how only he can pluck the strings of your heart, strumming love with each touch, in a way unlike any other.

Why, if you were Excalibur, then he was your King Arthur.

So, yeah, may the gods above forgive you for not considering a jealous Donnie as a reality to worry about—though, is it really too worrying? Your boyfriend being jealous? Kind of interesting, doesn’t it just trip up your heart into a flurry of skips?

No? Just me?

Anyways, you had missed entirely the shifting of his gaze when Mikey would enter the room. The low growl, the holding of his breath, none of it had appeared in your mind as you laughed along with whatever silly antics the youngest brother would get up to. Sometimes you would even entertain him! I mean, he is your boyfriend’s little brother, so it’s only right that you laugh at his jokes, get along with him, and all that good stuff.

But, jealousy was the type to hold someone still, to draw their gaze upon one stiff perspective and allow no other reasoning. For a man of science, even he was not above the laws of insecurity in relationships, so when he saw how bouncy his brother was around you, never did he contemplate the obvious. Nary a thought shall he consider that it was simply his brother getting along with his brother’s girlfriend, nor did he consider maybe you were being nice. No, the sour, bitter green dipped his head in the nastiness of jealousy, and all he could consider in this moment was that you must have liked his brother more.

Or maybe, his brother liked you and intended to steal you away? Why else would you laugh so heartily at whatever nonsense his brother spouted? Whatever reason was there for the times he would find you in the kitchen, fixing up dinner alongside Mikey? What else could explain you returning home with topside art supplies and personalized tips to his youngest brother?

Obviously the jealous mind of Donatello Hamato was going to omit one important factor: you did this with all his brothers. If they told a good joke, you would laugh. If Mikey made dinner, you were guaranteed to be in the kitchen helping by fixing you and Donnie’s plates to your liking. If there was something on the surface any of the brothers needed, you would totally put it on your errand run, delivering it during your next visit.

But, jealousy cares not for easy explanations. It craves the most dramatic interpretations, and in this case?

The juiciest interpretation was that Mikey had set his eyes on you, Donnie’s prized lover, and you had fallen for him hook, line, and sinker.

No, no, no, Donnie says, not on his watch would he let you be swept off your feet by anyone else.

“ Y/N. ”

Donnie leaned forward, fingers firmly locking with yours and giving an urgent tug. There was a thickness layered in his eyes that left Mikey shrinking away, confused as to what he could’ve done wrong.

“ Let’s go,”

Straightening up, he couldn’t help the grin widening on his face in a “ I’ve won ” type of manner. You simply waved to his brother.

“ You haven’t forgotten why you’re here, have you? ”

The look in his eyes caused your heart to skip, unprepared for such a heavy gaze that you hadn’t yet experienced. A nervous smile rose on your expression as you looked anywhere but the face giving you a look that would serve to make you fall even harder.

“ Of course not, Dee. ”

Donnie noted your refusal to eye contact, and instead of assuming it was one of your usual bashful moments caused by yours truly, his thoughts were plagued with theories of Mikey somehow worming his way into the heart Donnie swore was his.

“ Right. ”

He muttered in a curt fashion, leading you both to his lab.

The uncomfortable awkwardness blanketing the atmosphere had not gone unnoticed as you followed him, thumb stroking loving little hearts upon the upside of his palm. Usually he would meet this with a firm squeeze, but you could recognize when your genius had his mind up in the clouds. He wasn’t even paying attention to you, was he?! And to think you came all this way to entertain his experiments, hoping to get a kiss or two, only to be met with unnecessary coldness?

What the heck, man?

“ Prepare to behold the wondrous creations of the genius, Donatello. ”

Whatever stink he had been brewing in just seconds prior had evaporated as he unveiled his newest creation: an air-fryer that could quite literally create anything from thin air.

You tried to ignore the distant shout of the youngest brother, something along the lines of “ Hey! Where’s the air-fryer?! ”

Donnie had not ignored it, nor had he dismissed the stifled laughter from you that he surely knew the cause of. His hands clenched, wrapping into crossed arms as he leaned his weight into the table.

“ Annoyed sigh. ”

While rolling his eyes, he muttered an annotation to the peeved groan slipping his lips. There it was again, you noted with a narrowed gaze, that odd discontentment he’d been soaking in this night.

“ Alright, spill it. ”

You mirrored his lean, relying on one of the structural pillars in his lab to hold your weight. Your fingers thumped impatiently against your bicep as your eyes soaked in Donnie’s body language. He seemed to stiffen, either nervously or defensively, you didn’t know.

“ Spill what? ”

He spoke with such an accusatory tone that you were almost ticked off. You held your tongue, hoping to keep this civil and not devolving into mindless argument.

“ Spill wh—?! ”

Sputtering, your hands gestured wildly before quite literally framing him. He knew what you meant, he wasn’t dumb!

“ Whatever is making you so, so—so THIS! ”

His brow raised, and he almost seemed insulted as you threw your hands up with a frustrated growl.

“ Why are you so upset with me right now? What did I do? ”

That seemed to do the charm of dragging out what you’ve been looking for, the explanation, as he straightened his posture and pushed off the table.

“ Oh save me the innocent act, Y/N,”

Confusion painted your face, and for a moment he physically faltered, unsure to continue after such a clear display of hurt across your pretty face. After a second, his mouth tugged into a frown, shaking off the hesitation to continue his claim,

“ I know you like Mikey, so just do us both a favor and go scurry along after him. ”

Donnie waved his hand off, pointing to the door. Whatever look you had on your face at that moment must have embodied just how deeply the pain in your heart crawled, right on down to your very core, because he seemed to balk at his own words. A bit of regret wrapped around him as he muttered something too low for you to hear.

Tightening your lips, you straightened this time and took a few steps to close the gap between you and him.

“ You will not talk to me like that, and what’s this about me liking Mikey? Your little brother? ME? You think I like him?! ”

There was no way, right? He couldn’t be serious? You, liking Mi—he might as well have been your brother too! You could never like him over Donnie?! What an outrageous claim, you thought, standing your ground in front of Donnie. This could have been avoided if he had just not been such, such a…

“ Obviously! Why else would you be bringing him gifts and helping him out in the kitchen? ”

You opened your mouth to speak, only to be interrupted as he continued with an accusatory finger pointing no where specific.

“ And I’ll have you know that I have read about ‘Cooking together’ and I know how much of an intimate bonding experience it is! ”

The childish stomp he gave, throwing his fists against his sides stiffly, served to diminish almost all the frustration bubbling up. You snorted at the sight, causing him to loosen up, confusedly tripping over his words to sputter out a “ Wh-What, what is this, what’s so funny? ”

“ … You’re a riot, Dee. ”

Wiping away the tiny tears pricking from such a hearty laugh, your eyes met his with less of anger and more of the warmth he was far too familiar of.

“ Since apparently I’m the only one of us with some sense, I’ll have YOU know that I do that for all of y’all! ”

Sheepishly, he seemed to curl into himself as you poked your index finger right into his plastron to emphasize the “ you ”.

“ I bring you gifts all the time—April, Raph, Leo, hell, even Splinter, too! ”

Jealousy was starting to burn away, leaving behind the bashful shame as he started to finally contemplate the more reasonable explanations for your behavior. Silently he condemned himself for starting up this whole dumb debacle with such a blatant disregard to the facts.

“ And of COURSE I help Mikey with cooking. You have a specific palette that he doesn’t always remember fully, so it’s up to me to make sure you get a fulfilling meal you’ll actually eat, dummy! ”

Ah, now that was the part that did him in, something he didn’t even know. Just as you were going to continue, he stepped closer.

“ Wait, you do? ”

“ I do—do what? I said a lot of things, Donnie, be specific. ”

Derailed, you stumbled over your claims, lost suddenly at which point he had cling to.

“ I thought Michael was just inconsistent in his preparation of my dishes, but since you say that, I do recall my meals being much better when you were around. ”

His hands had found their way upon your shoulders as he spoke, gaze flitting all across the lab as he collected his thoughts.

“ I had suspected meals were just better when you were around because, well.. ”

You softened as his gaze fell onto you.

“ Because you were there.. ”

Silence fell upon you both, except more comfortably this time. He exhaled deeply, marked with his trademark “ relieved sigh ” then smiled at you.

“ Oh Y/N, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you into such a ridiculous argument. I was just… ”

“ You were just… Jealous? ”

Your teasing gaze was searing through him, so much so he shut his eyes tightly and groaned annoyedly.

“ As much as I would wish to not admit it, yes. I may have been experiencing,”

He waved his hand in the air, as if collecting his words.

“ Jealousy, towards your interactions with Miguel.. ”

Donnie was relieved as you laughed away all his worries, leaning in to plant a kiss on his lips. The moment lingered for a few, as if desperately needed to mend this situation, stopping only when you pulled away.

“ Alright, you’re forgiven… For now—BUT! Next time just talk to me, dummy, you got me all riled up for no reason. ”

With that, you gave a playful shove that had him gasping as though he were insulted, and quick to rush to his experiment’s side with more questions than he could keep up with.

Not like he hated an attentive and questioning audience, though. Much appreciated.

2K notes · View notes

boyfhee · 1 year

Text

FAIR AND SQUARE › lhs

SYNOPSIS › one thing about life— it's unpredictable. for example, you made a note to yourself about not associating too much with heeseung for your own peace of mind, letting him stay as the academic rival slash classmate that he is, instead of allowing him to be something more, except one thing leads to another and you find yourself face to face with the said man with your feelings all over the place. a lowkey confession leading to a mere competition, let the game begin.

WORD COUNT › 20.2k

GENRE › academic rivals / friends to lovers, mutual pinning because they're just competitive and oblivious ft in denial, fem reader, quite the 'he fell first but she fell harder' thing eye guess . . .

WARNINGS › mentions drinking, sheds light on family issues ( mostly on the reader's side ) bruise and injury, slightest of angst, arguments, suggestive ( fourth section, towards the end ) profanities, let me know if you spot more

PLAYLIST › tune in for a better experience

NOTE › i love this fic with all my heart and lungs, even more. anyway, i'm sorry to academic rivals fans, this doesn't have academic blood and gore, as quoted by my dear mai. SPEAKING OF MAI EVERYONE THANK @maiverie FOR BETAREADING THIS FIC!!!!!! im not lying when i say i wouldn't have finished writing this yesterday if it wasn't for her, like thank u for ur super helpful review that got my brain juices flowing :< luv u fr. ALSO both heeseung and reader are taking post grad course so of course, they're aged up ( no ages specified ) have fun reading.

I. BANE OF EXISTENCE

one thing about life— it’s unpredictable.

for example, you’re in the library writing and reading papers on the topic you love, the one that you’re supposed to enjoy and the one that will become the reason behind your earnings in the near future, but here you are, sitting with a headache and a cup of coffee on the side. who knew the subject you've liked since grade one will betray you and become the potential bane of your existence? not you, surely enough. wednesday noons are for basketball matches, which explains why the library and hallways are quieter and emptier than usual. even the teachers make time for the tournaments off their busy schedules, it’s understandable— your university is known for having one of the best sports teams in the league, and the basketball team being the defending champions does nothing but fuel the pride of students and staffs as if they’re the ones on the court, trying to get the ball in the basket.

you wouldn’t say you don’t like being a part of the crowd because you’ve been to the badminton tournaments and know that watching matches is as interesting as playing, if not more. you just don’t have the time to attend any. with assignments piling up and exams ‘round the corner, you’d rather spend your last two months of the semester studying instead of yelling at the bleachers. you can always get the recordings if you ever feel like watching one, as for the results, the word goes around faster in your department than anywhere else, all because of one of the students being on the team.

you try focusing, you really do, but your cup is just as empty as your brain and your phone is going up with notifications. you don’t see the point of miyeon spamming the gc with updates on the match when everyone in the group, except you, is with her, watching and cheering alongside. muting is a choice which you choose not to do, and the reason is between you and god, to be honest. long story short, it’s the lack of motivation clogging your thought process and the realisation that your friends are out there enjoying themselves unlike you is blocking any means of logical thinking. a day or two spent not studying wouldn’t make you fail the classes, and even if the guilt is pooling inside, you pack your stuff and walk out of the library, making your way to the indoor basketball court.

the screams grow louder as you approach, each step reminding you that you still can go back as you choose to ignore it. exams can wait, you tell yourself, a day to myself can’t. your mother would tell you to take breaks and go out instead of studying all day, but being on top is an addiction. it’s no good, you wish other students would believe you, it’s a struggle, on the top, at the bottom, everywhere. you expect to turn a few heads as soon as you walk inside, which doesn’t happen, but you expected it. you don’t watch matches, this could easily be your third or fourth one, and the first basketball match, to be more specific. once you realise that everyone is busy watching the plays instead of noticing who comes and goes from the court, you make your way up to the one friend you manage to spot amidst the crowd— sung hanbin. indoor bleachers feel more compact than the outdoor ones. you've been to the football match last semester, courtesy of miyeon, and everything being outdoors really helps with the crowd and noise.

“didn’t expect to see you here,” hanbin stands next to you, offering you a sip or two from his drink, which you politely refuse, eyes fixed on the court as if it was the home they’ve been searching for. “i thought you hate heeseung,” it isn’t until he takes his name that your gaze averts to heeseung. you don’t even know why hanbin would outright assume you’re here for heeseung. in fact, that man’s name didn’t even cross your mind until he was mentioned.

“hate is a big word, ‘bin,” your words are more of a whisper laced with hesitation, as if you aren’t sure of what you’re saying. hate, actually, is a very big and heavy word. despite its constant usage with your friends, you realise the weight it holds and the impact it has. hate and dislike— they’re different and yet similar enough to be used synonymously at times. not by you, of course, you have a clear distinction between the two, and as of now, you don’t know if what you feel for heeseung is a mere dislike or pure hatred. “i just don’t like him,”

when he successfully shoots a three-pointer, you come to the decision that you definitely don’t hate him. heeseung is, more or less, the typical all-rounder straight-A student, the jack of all trades and fortunately enough, the master of all as well. he's the student teachers use as an example, the son parents wish for, the boyfriend people wished they had. lee heeseung is many things, and one of those is being the reason why you have the second highest score in your department instead of the first position, unlike how it used to be two semesters ago.

heeseung transferred departments about thirty weeks ago, from chemistry to bioinformatics. it had been surprising on your side because not many opted for bioinformatics until they were certain of their goal. the course in itself is vast, like an ocean of several different fields and each and every one of them opens a door to a different outcome. bioinformatics isn’t something students picked overnight just because it had the vacancy and they didn’t like their initially chosen courses. as fun as the subject sounds, it demands consistency and time, something that heeseung lacks. you had seen him attend classes the first few weeks regularly, and then the ghost of him started sitting on the empty seat that belongs to him. skipping classes, arriving late, delayed submission of a couple of projects— you knew he wasn’t here to stay. it was to pass time, or whatever, you couldn’t care, didn’t care, not until he started acing the tests, practically dethroning you from your infamous ‘perfect all kill’ title that you had for getting nothing less than a perfect score, most of the time, give and take a few here and there.

you still get good scores, amazing even, full score in theory and the same in practicals. it’s going well in lab manuals and project works but heeseung seems to get a perfect score in those too, something you started missing ever since he came into the picture. perhaps, it was something in the way he phrased his essays— you hoped it was. rumour has it that heeseung used to be a literature student, which could explain his outstanding english skills and his eloquent way of speaking. you even looked up his debate videos on youtube only to find more evidence on how skilled he is in public speaking.

but above all, heeseung is, actually, just a really damn annoying student, quite literally the bane of your existence. he’s always set on stealing people’s spotlight during lessons, with you being the people, obviously, always answering questions with information that’s unrelated and probably even unnecessary. and for the shortest time, you even considered taking him off your ‘things i hate’ list because you were no different in highschool. when you’re the top student, it becomes a habit to talk about things as if you know them in your bones and impress teachers. hell, you even had rivals in highschool, although none of them got on your nerves the way heeseung does. basically, he has no reason to call you by weird names everytime you both pass each other in the hallways, or remind you that he’s the top student. ‘this is the vice-captain of the basketball team and the best student of the biotechnology department, lee heeseung, informing you on the up—’ seriously, no one wants to hear him introduce himself like that when you’re around. you’re pretty sure it’s engraved inside your brain with the amount of times he repeats it everyday. minjeong even says that heeseung is becoming more and more like sunghoon, and you would not know how or why because you didn’t attend highschool with sunghoon, unlike her.

the court flares up with cheers when heeseung goes for a dunk which ultimately leads to their team winning the match, and you reach the conclusion that maybe you don’t hate heeseung but actually want to bang his head against the walls. your eyes follow him around the court, analysing his conduct during the match, the way he communicates so effortlessly with teammates using hand signs or quick phrases, the way he holds the team together when the ball is with him, despite not being the captain. heeseung might be the most unbearable person you’ve met so far, he’s actually just fine when his target is not you. you’re sure any other player is doing just as good but nothing comes close to how you see heeseung. it’s different, the light he is in, it’s unique, incredible, and inexplicably addictive. heeseung juggles between classes and basketball, you remember sunghoon talking about his part-time job when you passed by their lockers the other day. he doesn’t have it easy, you don’t either, but you had those all perfect kills by spending hours in your study while heeseung does better than you while winning matches, making money.

it doesn’t take you long to realise that what you have for him could be dislike with a hint of jealousy, and you wonder if all the people would react the same way once they know who heeseung really is— a devil behind an angelic face, one who deliberately likes ruining things for you, as if his life depends on it. you still remember the day he personally texted you the wrong syllabus for a test, claiming that it had been updated and the professor had asked him to notify everyone. ‘and as you know, i have not been added in the group chat yet so i’m texting everyone personally,’ he had lied ever so smoothly as if his words consist of nothing but truth, as if lies are something he hasn’t even heard of. kudos to you for studying the original and correct syllabi beforehand, you still aced the test, if heeseung scoring the first rank is overlooked.

you’re dragged back from your thoughts to the reality when a boy bumps into you while hurrying down to the players, hoping to get noticed. half of the students act like the team is actually a boy-band, you can see them on the front page of every single edition of university magazine. usually, you prefer waiting for the crowd to disperse before taking your leave from wherever you are, but a sudden reminder about the tests over text from your professor gives you a reason to leave early, all to make sure you could catch up to heeseung. you rush your way out of the bleachers once the teams start leaving the court, eyes fixed on heeseung to take a note of the direction he leaves. hanbin gives you a confused look before the words find their way out of his mouth. “where are you going?”

“basketball shower room,” and your words could give him, and the other people who might’ve heard you, a wrong idea but you couldn’t care less. the goal was to see heeseung before he leaves the campus, which was highly likely because no one has it in them to attend four hours of classes after an exhausting match, not even heeseung, no matter how amazing he is.

you make your way through the ocean of people, bumping into a few in the process as you make your way to the club room. a silent profanity leaves your mouth once you realise that the club room entrance might be filled with fangirls and boys, left and right, and the thought of shuffling your way out of the crowd to meet heeseung makes you reconsider your actions. heeseung might be a star student but isn’t amazing enough for you to step out of your comfort zone and do things to see him.

“well, this is surprising,” your voice manages to turn his head towards the door. “thought you’d be busy with your fangirls, lee,” and it is surprising indeed because the hallways are unexpectedly empty with only a few people around. you would say they learnt to give the players their space after a game but that would be a lie considering the embarrassing history of students when it comes to people on the sports team.

“they’re probably busy with jake,” heeseung responds with a smile, and even though he turns to his locker just as quickly, you could see the smile dancing on the corner of his lips.

jake is rather a new player, a junior to be specific, and jay personally spent days waiting outside the physics department to get the guy on the basketball team. explains why he’s popular amidst students, he’s talented, good at studies— seriously, you wouldn’t understand how these people manage academics with sports. you couldn’t, and even if you managed to, you would end up passing out every few days. “does it suck to lose your fan-following to a newbie?”

“not really. i still have you here,” heeseung wouldn’t call it ‘losing’ his fan-following because he’s using jake as bait to escape the crowd of students as quickly as possible. a junior has to make sacrifices, in this case it’s to save heeseung by sacrificing himself to the public. although, saying that he still has you looking for him even though a hundred others aren’t makes him feel better about himself. “no but seriously, what did you come here for?”

“oh, it’s for the test on friday,” you pull out your phone, opening the group chat with the professor and the students who took the same course. it’s laughable how the universe put you in the exact same situation twice, although with the tables turned this time, and it takes everything in you to not tell him a made-up, wrong syllabi, and do what is rational. “the syllabi was extended up to chapter fourteen, till page three-ninety-seven. they sent it in the group chat this morning but i’m sure you hardly have time even to think about something else except basketball,”

you’ve known heeseung for two semesters but that’s for the people to say. the truth is, you don’t know him outside what he shows to everyone else. you see him come and go, spot him around the bar with his friends on weekends you pass by it. you know he skips classes and asks students for notes. it’s not necessarily from you, though you’d prefer if he would ask you since you’re the best student in the whole department, after him, as much as you hate to admit it. on some days, you see him in the library, earphones plugged in. if you manage to sneak a glance or two, you’d catch him watching the match recordings and taking notes, you wouldn’t know what notes someone could take from matches. in short, you don’t know heeseung more than how everyone knows him. coming to the shower rooms and notifying him about the test might just be a discreet attempt at striking up more conversations with him, but also, you’re just fine with him being the academic rival slash classmate that he is.

“yeah, semi-finals,” heeseung shuts his locker close, a sigh falling off his lips just like the water drops falling on his shoulder from the tips of his hair, after a shower. “doesn’t help that they’re at the same time as the quarterly assessments. thank you for telling me even though it means you’ll end up losing the first position to me once again,” and of course, the heeseung you know wouldn’t waste an opportunity to strike up a competition. it would be a lie if you claim to hate it because despite the sour look on your face, a part of you loves these little academic races with him. heeseung makes you strive to do better, he’s like the driving force you lacked which made college a whole lot better. after all, where’s the fun in getting a perfect score with the bare minimum effort, without some challenges knocking at your door?

“what can i do, i’m all about fair play,” there’s a subtle shade behind your words, reckoning to the multiple incidents of him ruining things for you. this could take a really nasty turn if you were to resort to his ways, except you won’t because you’re better than him. “good luck, and we’ll see who loses the first position to whom,”

heeseung wipes his hair before switching to texting on his phone, the smile still adorning his face like a jewel. you assume it’s the delight from winning a match, it’s obvious. his eyes couldn’t help but sparkle at every little achievement, always looking forward to something more, something challenging, that’s lee heeseung for you— someone who knows he has an easier way around things but would deliberately walk down another path and test his limits. shocking how it took you one basketball match to see the passion he has for things he’s interested in, that he’s more than a sport jock or a straight nerd, he’s more than someone who takes courses to pass time, more than someone who is just a show-off.

“heeseung,” the dislike, the hatred, the envy, it might all be a lie. “well played today,” because in the end, there’s a minimal possibility that you’re leaving the room with nothing but the slightest of admiration for the guy who is nothing but an obstacle between you and that first position in upcoming finals in two months.

and it would be a lie too to claim that your words didn’t catch heeseung by surprise.

II. RIVALRY, FEELINGS, ETCETERA.

it has been a little over one day since heeseung’s conversation with you outside the shower rooms, twenty-seven hours to be exact. twenty-seven hours of him hearing the same last words over and over again, twenty-seven hours of him failing all and any attempts at straight thinking and twenty-seven hours of him not thinking about anything except you. all of it ends up in three hours of practice and not one good shot from heeseung. the sighs and snickers from teammates fill the court every few seconds— truthfully, they never leave. heeseung is simply too lost to pay attention to them.

“heeseung, you good?” a pat on shoulder from jake and the words following soon after manage to pull him out of his spiral of thought, even if it’s for a brief second.

“he’s not, won’t be anytime soon,” sunghoon replies as if the answer was on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be revealed. “yn came to watch the last match, after all,” there’s a smirk on sunghoon’s face, heeseung can tell it in the intonation of his words.

jay pauses just seconds before going for a layup, joining the conversation. “wait, she did?”

“yep, saw her standing next to that hanbin guy or something,”

“mate, you cannot be acting like this over a girl and that too, four days before finals,” this conversation, as a whole, is beyond jake’s comprehension. a part of the reason could be because he joined the team late, thus missing out on a huge chunk of internal jokes and gossip and goes amidst the players. and no amount of reasons can convince him into thinking that it’s fine to act out-of-character before important matches just because your crush showed up at one of your matches.

“she’s not just some random girl. she never attends matches, but she came to watch my match,” heeseung clarifies as if the reasons behind his antics are valid and acceptable. “you wouldn’t know how i feel right now,”

“you’re on cloud nine, we know, your crush gave you the attention you’ve been lacking but trust me, she would ignore you just as efficiently if she sees you perform like this,”

“she’s not a crush,” and despite it being a well known fact amongst the basketball team that heeseung has a thing or two for you, he always refuses to accept it. one can say it’s the pride thing. you barely even talk to him unless it’s about studies, and your conversations are mostly along the lines of who outdoes whom in tests and assessments. moreover, everyone knows heeseung is the reason why you’re the second best student in the department— as much as you hate to admit it, again— because he transferred and flipped your world, probably even dribbled around with it like a basketball. a word goes around every few days about you glaring at him in class, which is not true, you’re instead focusing your eyes on something in an attempt to think. he just happens to sit right in front of you and be the object of focus. heeseung might as well believe that you hate him, even though yesterday’s conversation was far from how people talk when they hate each other, and his assumptions could account for the constant words of denial that fall off his lips.

jay snickers before landing a hook successfully. “yeah, and i’m a pigeon,”

“oh, shut it, jay,” heeseung turns to look at the other boy. “she’s just someone i admire. have you read her essays? her papers? god, we’re a year away from graduation but she’s already writing mind-blowing papers, one of them was even published in the monthly issue of some magazine. she’s already on her best performance and still tries to do better, always down to guide juniors with lab work and also is on the research team for the paediatrics department at asan medical centre. all this, and she studies all day. if i were her, i’d pass out. i can’t go a day without entering the court,”

“and he says he doesn’t have a crush oh her,” sunghoon rolls his eyes, it’s like if he heard another line of excuses from heeseung, he could see the back of his skull and have a look at hs big, fat brain.

“because i don’t? you guys never had someone you admired so much that they practically became your role model despite being in the same year?” unlike other things that heeseung does, calling you his role model has a reason. first, it can give him a reason to talk to you. heeseung is almost convinced that you hate him, and if this persists, it would get harder and harder for him to approach you, but with the lie— half lie— of you being his role model and so wonderful that he couldn’t help but admire you from afar while trying to overcome his social anxiety gives him a reason to talk to you. plus, it sounds plausible, he doesn’t understand why his brother says it’s bound to fail.

the second reason and more to do with his friend group. no one in his friend circle is capable of keeping a secret— jay ends up spilling tea unconsciously, jake tells one person who he trust and that person turns out to be the most untrustworthy person ever, beomgyu, well he’s on the team but telling him would be like standing on a stage and announcing to the whole campus, and sunghoon, he’s the mother, he cannot digest food without disclosing secrets. even if it’s common knowledge that heeseung has a tiny crush on you, denying it in front of the whole campus everytime one of them brings it up helps him with his reputation and fortunately, ends up keeping it a secret. besides, he’d rather have people tease him for calling you his role model than having a crush on you.

“i surely don’t have someone i admire to the point i read all their papers and know each and everything they’ve volunteered for,” jay argues back, set on proving his point. “tell me what am i gonna do knowing that she’s on the paediatrics research team?”

“i think this is the most i’ve known about yn ever since classes started and that too, because of heeseung,” beomgyu chuckles, earning a side eye from heeseung in the process.

“enough, let’s get back to practice,” heeseung intervenes in an attempt to change the topic. he does not want his closest friends making fun of him for liking someone— it’s supposed to be human nature to have a crush.

“you get back to practice because you’re the only one fucking up because of your silly little crush. i’m done, jay, call me when we’re having a practice match because i need to attend theology or my professor would write me up,” taehyun passes the ball to sunghoon, the latter yelping in surprise at the sudden yet successful catch.

“i don’t have a crush—”

“of course, let’s get you back to practice,” jake cuts heeseung off mid sentence, moving back to take his position as sunghoon passes the ball to heeseung, who, as expected, misses the catch due to lack of concentration.

it’s going to be a long day for the team.

“a little birdie told me you went to see heeseung in the shower rooms?” are the words you hear as soon as your classes are dismissed, miyeon walking up to you and hanbin discussing the set of questions your professor distributed just a few minutes ago.

“i didn’t go into the shower rooms, i was outside, near the lockers,” and there’s a difference. to be in the shower room implies you were there in the shower, which definitely gives rise to several wrong ideas of different levels. specifically, you didn’t even enter the locker room. you were outside, leaning against the door, watching heeseung as he walked freshly out of the shower, a towel around his neck, you both strike up a small talk. yeah, that was the scene, not with you in the shower and whatever miyeon’s imagination leads to after that.

“so you did go!” she claps her hands together as if it’s a celebratory occasion, turning her head to look at the boy next to you. “what were you saying about yn not having a crush, habin?”

“it’s not a crush, miyeon,” and it’s true— heeseung is not a crush. he’s a classmate, a rival, an over-qualified and impossibly competitive student, someone you would want to take your time to study. “what, i can’t even go to tell a classmate about the updated syllabus for a test now? i would’ve done that for anyone, not just heeseung,”

hanbin sighs, packing his bag. “sure, but he’s in the groupchat. he could’ve checked it himself,”

“um, i doubt that,” you’re preparing a powerpoint in your head, multiple slides on why you needed to do what you did. “he’s busy with basketball and i know how he gets when the matches are around the corner. don’t you remember how he skipped two weeks of classes straight because of matches last semester? and it’s the finals this time, i don’t think he even opens texts about anything that’s not basketball. i mean, he responded to my messages six days later because he was busy with practice,”

you say it like you’ve known heeseung for a decade and have been through the ups and downs with him. you wouldn’t care about who does what in the classes, if it’s a paper plane flying right over you, landing just second to the first row of seats or if it’s someone being brave enough and playing music during lectures. biology, in your opinion, is a subject for those who are serious about doing something unique while staying in the academic field. you don’t encounter troublemakers often, once a blue moon if the heavens make a mistake. on other days, it’s quieter than a library, emptier than cemeteries at night.

to think your life as a biotechnology major got interesting after heeseung switched majors is astonishing and equally debatable.

“i don’t see why i should remember all that about ‘just a classmate’ but thanks for telling,” and before you know it, hanbin and miyeon are out of the class, on their way to wherever their next stop is. seriously, they’re having it easier than you. they go to games, movies, drink on weekends— something you haven’t had a taste on ever since the year started. somewhere, you could be blamed for your hectic schedules. studies, lab work, and thesis, they suffice for all the stress a student in post graduation studies can handle. volunteering and writing papers is on you, things wouldn’t have been arduous if you had decided to move slowly, one step at a time. sometimes, the hunger for more leaves you starving— quite literally.

you spend an hour or so in the classroom along with a few other students, going through the same old routine of yours— watch videos, take notes, transfer them to your document in your own words and make it sound as innovative and convincing as possible. heeseung would be better at this than you. you’re exhausted to the point that accepting your defeat to him doesn’t even faze you anymore. he used to be a literature student, had english as a side course as an undergrad, he’s bound to be better than making essays sound they came right out of shakespeare's drafts, phrases and metaphors that would put fitzgerald to shame.

you didn’t care about what went down in your classes until heeseung came along. call it craziness or the weird impression you have of students in your field, heeseung is far from the typical biotechnology student aiming for a postgraduate degree. he skips classes, plays basketball as if studies are a side business, and yet still manages to ace every test like an all-rounder. he shouldn’t even be in classroom, he should be in the labs, being the most important subject of studies. there are days you think of him as a social experiment— how quickly can a robot piss off a straight-A student with its impeccable skills— of course, the subjects wouldn’t know it’s a robot but you do, you’re almost convinced he is one. there’s no way he’s the top student with the amount of effort he puts in. one would claim that he studies after classes, at home slash dorms, but you can bet your life he doesn’t. there have been numerous instances when you’ve spotted him in the background of someone’s picture at a bar. he’s always with people, he has a humongous friend group, god knows how someone can live like that. at first, you were convinced he isn’t real, as worrisome as it sounds, and if he is real then he needs to be studied.

which leads to what you’re doing right now— making your way to the basketball court. you don’t know how or why you’re doing it. you started with your studies, ended up thinking about heeseung, and now you’re on your way to the basketball court. although, it’s not half a bad idea, now that you think about it once again.

your mind goes all the way back to when you watched him play for the first time, which was just a day ago actually. you don’t know anything about basketball, you don’t know much about heeseung either, but there’s one thing you’re sure of— heeseung is class and heeseung on the court, they’re different. you’ve noticed the way he clicks his pen relentlessly out of nervousness when he can’t solve a question, the way his back tenses up for a fraction of a second as soon as he’s asked to explain something. you’ve seen the hints of fear in his eyes when he asked you for notes last semester just three days before exams, scared that he would fail. heeseung isn’t sure of a lot of things and basketball isn’t one of those.

“you’re not practising?” you ask him when you swim out of your thoughts, watching him climb up the bleachers and sit next to you. the court seems much better when it’s empty, free from the loud cheers of spectators, but that could be just you.

“i was, as you see, but i saw you up here and thought it was time for a break,” you could see his teammates shake heads at him in disappointment, proceeding to continue with their practice. “what’s up?”

you don’t respond to him and instead, take your time watching the others practise their shots. you watch the way one of them, who you think is taehyun, goes for a dunk, credits to hanbin for telling you names for a few shots. next to you, heeseung shouts out a tip or two for the boy for him to have an easier and effective approach at the said move. heeseung is good at dunks, you’ve heard it from students, you’ve seen it in the last match as well. just one shot was enough to tell you how good he is at it, it’s like basketball flows in his veins, like he can close his eyes and still manage to get a basket.

your eyes ghost up the court and shift to him— there’s a content smile on his face, a relaxed posture as if there’s nothing for him to worry about. he takes a sip from his energy drink, you wonder if he, or anyone from the team, even gets time to have their meals. the expression on his face, it’s something you’ve never seen on him during lessons. it takes you back to the match, how he looked on court a day before, certain of every move he made, every step, every breath, without doubts, no second thoughts. you’ve done enough lab projects with heeseung to know how his hands shake when he’s preparing a slide or extracting a sample from a centrifuge, afraid that one wrong move and he would mess up the efforts of everyone in the group. that hesitation is nowhere to be seen on the court, gone like it has never existed. as if lee heeseung, the star student and player, has never had an encounter with nervousness and hesitation in his life. there’s a thin line between studies and sport for him, you finally realise it after much consideration. maybe, you’re going beyond your boundaries and making assumptions about a guy you barely know, even if you would never voice all these thoughts to him, you think you know the reason why there’s a different him on the stage when the ball is in hands.

“how did you realise that you like basketball? you know, like it enough to devote so much of your time and have it alongside studies?” because even if biotech is something he’s studying and wants to make a career in, you guess that it’s just a source of satisfaction. in your eyes, through your perception, basketball is what makes him truly happy.

you don’t know why someone wouldn’t pick satisfaction over happiness, especially when it’s coming with its hands full of opportunities to grab that bag.

“eh, i don’t have a sob story about it, if that is what you’re hoping for,” he chugs down the contents of the can before crushing it to the slightest, eyes squinting at the opposite wall before they move back to meet yours. “i never had to sit and think about basketball and studies, you know, as in how am i going to manage both of them. it just happened. i started playing basketball in middle school and it has been with me ever since,”

heeseung’s side of the story is simple— a mediocre guy who was introduced to sports by his older brother and now, it’s one of the most important things in his life. middle school heeseung preferred staying in and playing video games instead of going out. in fact, middle school heeseung resembles you in all the ways that make him different from you right now. he has been good at learning and remembering things, he takes liking to things quicker than others do. basketball was like for him— easy, quick, fun, like a way to release all the stress after a long day at school. in heeseung’s story, there isn’t a main character who helped him choose the path he’s walking right now. instead, all he had was his family who introduced him to the various aspects and opportunities, and he simply ended up joining hands with the ones he liked, deciding to not let it go before the dead end.

“i want to have that passion for things,” a soft laughter falls off your lips, it’s an attempt to make your sob story look less pitiful. “i used to paint and play piano— but painting, mostly, was really good at it. i learnt how to draw before i learnt how to tie my shoelaces. i couldn’t go a day without painting, but then highschool happened, i had pressure to do well, expectations from friends and family, had a dream outside painting, and now, i haven’t painted in years,”

unlike heeseung, art started as more than just a side business to you. it’s not something you were introduced to in the middle of your life but rather is something you grew up with. you can blame or credit your mother for making paintings and having them in almost every corner of your house. it’s one of the reasons why at five years old you were beyond fascinated at all the patterns and colours. no one would’ve guessed that science would manage to sweep you off your feet right from the first grade, given the way your hands danced a duet to their own melody along with a paintbrush, as if each stroke has a conscious life of its own. no one would’ve guessed that your mother would tell you to stop painting and focus on studies, neither would they have known that she would become the reason why you no longer feel the same way about art. as stated before, life is unpredictable— because no one would’ve guessed that sitting here on the bleachers with heeseung and sharing a piece of your life would water the seeds of doubts in your heart, the ones that bloom at the sight of him.

he thinks your story is sad— with all due respect, without sarcasm, of course. it’s the best he can say. “i think it’s more of a ‘connection’ thing. you think you’ve lost the connection but you simply need to pickup a canvas and some colours to relink, if you get me,” because heeseung has had somewhat of a same experience, with music, and sitting front of a piano to play one of sibelius’ symphonies after senior year highschool finals was all it took him to find his lost interest in music. even though it’s nothing more than just a hobby, even if it's just something he considers as a way to pass time, heeseung knows how it feels to let go of something that is an integral part of one’s life.

“it has always been about timing, heeseung,” you shake your head, trying to prove him wrong using your own arguments. “you think i haven’t tried painting again? i still have art supplies stacked up in my cupboard. it’s all about timing. when you like something, you only get a few chances to make sure it stays with you for a lifetime. how many people do you know who have given up on their hobbies because they claim to have lost interest? the thing is, the interest is still there, it’s the inability and fear of not being able to do it again. if you timing is off, no matter how much you try, things won’t work, and what you love will end up becoming a closed chapter of your life,”

a pause. he sits still, eyes admiring your face while his mind is busy replaying your words in the back of his head. heeseung wonders how valid they are when it comes to people. he likes you, despite the constant denial which is only for show, by the way. it doesn’t take a scientist to read him. reading him isn’t even close to rocket science, he doesn’t understand how you haven’t caught up even after being incredibly smart. he has seen you hang out with hanbin— heeseung hates that guy, by the way. there’s no solid logic, it’s just that hanbin seems to be around you all the time and heeseung thinks of him as a leech sucking blood off its host. heeseung would never admit but it’s just his jealousy playing tricks on him, and even though it doesn’t look like you have any romantic feelings towards that guy, it would be fucking embarrassing for heeseung lose you to a guy who isn’t even half as qualified as him. ( yes, he is judging characters based on academic qualifications, no heeseung wouldn’t explain why )

“i like you,” and so, he lets his feelings win for once, deciding to let his heart take control instead, closing doors to any room for rational thinking like it never existed. “you said it was about timing, about trying hard enough and having only a few chances, perhaps, just one bullet, and i’m shooting my shot right now. i don’t want to remember you as a closed chapter of my life,”

it would be such a waste of chemistry if you end up becoming just a closed chapter of his life. heeseung has done his research, more like reading tons of books and watching hundreds of movies to understand the potential that two academic rivals have. no one knows this, not even his closest friends, but heeseung’s favourite genre might simply be enemies to lovers and living that trope doesn’t sound as bad when it’s with you. he has spent hours thinking about the number of productive library dates you could have, working on projects together and brainstorming about the next biggest revolution in the RDT world, changing the public’s outlook at genetics forever. it sounds stupid and makes him sound even stupider, even as a lost cause, but heeseung doesn’t care. in his mind, it’s the best date someone could have. to live and become successful together, it sounds like a perfect plan to him.

truthfully, you have always been a part of heeseung’s future, near or distant. he always always pictures you in his life, standing next to him during graduation, bidding goodbyes at farewell, exchanging shy greetings at reunions ten years later while reminiscing about everything he did to irritate you, that would sound embarrassing a decade later. your presence will always be significant to him, he just hopes to remember you as something more than just a rival, just a classmate he never really got to know, just a person he spent his two years hating upon, just a crush he didn’t get to confess to.

the catch— heeseung has already started picturing his future and you are not even sure of your present— and while he is looking at you for an answer, you’re lost inside your head, looking for words to articulate.

heeseung is someone you planned to stay away from for the rest of your university life. him stepping into your life already costs you a lot, namely: dropping in ranks and losing your infamous title. his actions cost you the time you could use to study, which is actually upon you because you can simply ignore him instead of spending hours on thinking about his hows, whens and whats. heeseung was supposed to be the academic rival slash classmate that he is, instead of allowing him to be something more, but beyond rivalry, feelings, etcetera. you knew the way you felt about him, even though you couldn’t be as certain as him, or even to claim you see him the same way he feels about you.

turns out, heeseung has always been sure of certain things in his life.

“heeseung, i’m—”

“not sure? busy? stressed? i know you have a lot of things going on right now. take your time, study for the finals, finish your papers, sort out your own issues and then come back to me. i’ll be waiting,” it’s like he’s not only good at studying but also at reading minds, because heeseung seems to have guessed a part of exactly what you’ve been thinking. call it timing, jay calls him to get back to practice just a few seconds later— a perfect excuse to leave. “looks like my break is over,”

you sit speechless, watching him walk away like an opportunity that just walked out of your hand. it feels like a slight defeat, like a test you failed when you could've scored better, if not a full score. it's funny because this wasn't a competition, you weren't rejected, more like you rejected him, but it still feels like he has the upper hand. it's funny and equally annoying because heeseung is supposed to be nothing more than just a nobody, somebody you aren't even supposed to spare two thoughts on, but here you are sitting with the guy with your feelings all over the place.

“heeseung,” you stand up, your voice making him turn to look at you, both of you ignoring the sight of his teammates standing motionless in their positions, too stunned at your voice reverberating in the almost empty court. “let’s do this: if you manage to stand first in the finals, i’ll date you,”

a lowkey confession leading to a mere competition. his lips morph into a smirk, the ones he'd pass you before tests, an open challenge offered directly to you. “and if i don’t?”

and you mirror the same smirk back at him, you weren't going to back off simply because it's about the person you possibly have a crush on. “i become just a closed chapter of your life,”

let the game begin.

III. LIAR AND THE LOVER

despite heeseung’s sudden confession, you’re doing quite well, taking it better than expected. you had your moment of confusion back when the words of proposal fell off his lips— anyone would. after all, it’s lee heeseung we’re talking about. you can only imagine the saddened faces of his fangirls once they hear about him confessing to you.

“jay told me you made a bet with heeseung?” hanbin’s question catches your attention as soon as he steps into the cafe, managing to turn a few heads towards you in the process.

“you know jay?”

he sits next to you, pulling out his laptop in a hurry. you can guess it’s because of his essay that’s due before six in the evening, one he could’ve written last night instead of getting wasted at his friend’s birthday gathering. “we share history, also, that’s not the answer to my question,”

“it’s not a bet, ‘bin,” your words aren’t half wrong. “just a silly game, y’know? i didn’t even expect him to agree,” frankly, even you don’t know why or how you came up with such a bizarre idea in broad daylight. usually, people get bouts of excitement or embarrassment while confessing or being confessed to, but in your case, you jumped over the fence and made a proposal that you have only seen in fiction.

“nah, no way you’re setting up your whole love life for failure and calling it a silly game,” the disappointment is evident in hanbin’s voice as his fingers danced over his keyboard, typing with a speed that could leave the trains behind. well, people tend to get like that when you have an assignment due and the deadline is just a few hours to go. you guess that he’s too busy to even listen to your reasoning, which is appreciated considering you have no reasoning as for why you did what you did.

“you made a bet with heeseung,” you turn your head around, making the boy next to you do the same in the process. it’s miyeon— you should’ve seen it coming, honestly. your actions have consequences, as always, and one of them is dealing with her non-stop interrogation as if you’re the prime suspect for some gruesome crime and every question answered wrong opens gates to capital punishment. sometimes, you wonder why she didn’t go with studying law instead.

“how do you know?”

“everyone knows, yn. it’s all they’ve been talking about,” she sighs, sitting opposite to you while taking a look at hanbin’s laptop. “even the football fanatics are talking about attending the game, god, hanbin we better hurry that day or we’re not getting a seat,” you should’ve seen it coming, honestly. miyeon might not be the most social person, but she definitely is the most updated. nothing escapes her, every tiny incident reaches her ears one way or another, and if not, then she just finds out about it using her sources, given you don’t know about her sources. it’s one of the reasons why you’re almost convinced that she runs a shady side business alongside her career in bioengineering.

you take a sharp breath, going through the bunch of papers arranged in your file. “it’s not that serious. he confessed to me and i said i’d date him if he manages to secure the first position in the finals as well,”

“you did that knowing he hasn’t been studying because of games while you’re studying like your life depends on it? there’s no way he’s going to be first, and everything aside, it was a wrong fucking move to play with his feelings,” play with his feelings— a pause, you don’t like how it sounds. you’re not playing with his feelings, that’s far from what you’re doing. it’s a game, a competition, new to your friends but you and heeseung have always been familiar with it. there’s an unspoken rule to test each other’s limits. the last time you and heeseung did something like this, it resulted with you writing ‘lee heeseung is smarter than ln yn,’ in bold on a sheet of paper and putting it on the notice board for the whole campus to see. in your eyes, it's history repeating itself yet again. sure, there is something else at stake, but the rules are the same, and you don’t know why your friends are acting like you’ve done something terribly unethical.

“no one’s playing with his feelings, miyeon, and i know for a fact he’s making time to study for finals,” you clarify your side, slight annoyance evident in your voice. “besides, it doesn’t matter. it’s not like this is serious, i only did this to buy time to figure out my feelings while the game gives me a reason to study and not get distracted. you know how i get when i lose focus,”

that could be the reasoning behind your actions, of course. even while sitting in a cafe with your friends and having a conversation that is about to make your blood boil, you’re thinking of heeseung in the back of your head. his words play over and over again like a broken record player, the image of him on court or studying pops up in your mind every now and then. obsession is a disease and you have it bad. it’s crazy to be thinking about someone so much without being absolutely floored for them.

“so you’ll date him despite the outcome?” hanbin drags you out of the well of your thoughts, a question that leaves miyeon flabbergasted.

“if i manage to figure out my feelings then of course,” a chuckle falls off your lips. “i’m telling you guys, it’s not that serious. i’m sure he knows it too,” and you’re really confident about this— it usually never ends on a good note.

“and if he doesn’t? what if it’s serious for him? yn, you never know how one thing might affect someone, and feelings are not something to gamble on. you should’ve told him you need some time to think instead of giving him a false hope or whatsoever,” it’s now that you start having second thoughts. the next two hours go by amidst silence, a few small talks blooming here and there, but dissolving just as quickly within the ticking clock of deadlines for assignments and exams.

it doesn’t take a scientist to know when miyeon is upset, for she isn’t the best at masking her emotions. through the sneaky glances at her that you’ve stolen over time, you can tell she’d rather spend the evening in silence than talk to you, which is a challenge with herself because she’s really talkative. it takes two to sing a duet, two to play and game, two people to make a relationship work. heeseung and you— the two of you are enough to make decisions for yourselves, decide what’s right and wrong and, something about miyeon questioning your choices doesn’t sit right with you.

too many cooks spoil the broth, it’s the principle of your life, the words you’ve been following to this date. it was your decision to have a few friends instead of a fifty— quality over quantity, as one might call it— and there has never been a moment when you regretted having a handful of people to call friends. instead of consulting too many people about your major in university, you simply went with what your parents and homeroom teacher suggested. life has been good so far. the more the better is something that isn’t applicable in your case. instead of telling everyone about your dilemma regarding heeseung, you decided to keep it to yourself, eventually opening up to heeseung when the time comes. you’re doing just fine on your own, it doesn’t make sense to you why a third person’s opinion is making you doubt your decision making abilities that you’ve been so proud of.

this is not a gamble, you tell yourself, it’s a fair play. you gave him options, he made the choice, it’s consensual. you didn’t force him into this game, he didn’t pressure you to respond, it’s a harmless competition that’s bound to have a positive outcome. you even spend a good fifteen minutes wondering if you should go back to heeseung and take it all back in case he finds it insensitive to put his feelings on the line. doing it in person seemed impossible so you resorted to texts, typing and deleting your message before giving up altogether. in your head, this was an okay decision. a sweet confession, a person with unsure feelings, a harmless competition.

you hope it doesn’t backfire ten times worse.

three days later, you find yourself on the way to basketball club rooms once again. you checked the court, it was empty, and your only option was to check the club slash locker rooms if you wanted to see heeseung. okay, first things first, you don’t miss him— maybe a little, but it’s because you miss hearing his weird ass answers in class even though they’re right. heeseung just has an unique approach to things, in other words he simply knows how to buy time and go in detail about things he’s an expert at to impress the professors. however, that doesn’t seem to be the case for him because he has approached you six times in the past three days, asking if you’re free to hangout.

you like to think he misses you or that his requests were because he wanted to make sure you don’t study and lose to him, either could be true. knowing heeseung, he’s capable of going both ways. whatever may be the reason, you turned him down all six times, and it’s not because you have something against him— of course, you don’t. that’s common knowledge by now— your reason for not hanging out with him is studies, as expected of you honestly. the bet aside, you had way too many chapters to learn before exams and all heeseung ever does is take up your headspace everytime you sit down with your books spread open. avoiding him in thoughts wasn’t possible so avoiding him in person was your last straw.

which leads to the present : you rushing to heeseung, again, not because you miss him but because you need his help, though one of the reasons could be that you feel bad for turning him down six times. you can hear muffled laughter from a distance as you approach the club rooms, a bang against one of the lockers, a loud profanity that follows afterwards. their humour is beyond your level of understanding.

“heese— oh, um—” you greet and turn away just as quickly when you realise that one of them is shirtless. it’s obviously heeseung, you can’t mistake his face for someone else. and you’re guessing he’s the last one to come out of shower because everyone else is dressed, maybe he’s someone who likes to take his time showering— you seriously need to stop thinking before your imagination goes bonkers. “sorry, can you come outside for a second when you’re ready?”

another round of laughter follows, more like teasing remarks because you can swear you heard a few of them refer to you as his girlfriend, and it gets you a little flustered, you won’t lie. you even hear one of them yell ‘ooh, get it, heeseung,’ as heeseung walks out, fixing his t-shirt, responding back with his middle finger up at whoever made the comment.

“hi,” his voice isn’t much louder than a whisper, eyes fluttering between you, the floor, and his teammates who pretend to not look when you peek inside. there’s a soft smile on his face— it’s cute, you think, and then rethink what you just thought. heeseung is, well, not cute— usually. he’s good-looking, handsome, hot, sexy, even, since you’re on the topic of finding adverbs that suit heeseung. cute is rarely one of them, you don’t think you’ve seen him as flustered as he is right now— rubbing his nape, a tint of pink on his cheeks, avoiding eye-contact— that’s far from the heeseung you’ve been seeing for past two semesters.

“hi, can you send me the pdf of the extra set of questions that prof sent last week? i think i accidentally deleted it while clearing up my storage,” you get straight to the point, trying not to waste much of your precious time. “i could’ve texted you but figured you’d be too busy with practice to check messages,” you remember what happened last time; he took six days to reply to your texts. you’re quite a patient person otherwise but in this case, you’re in dire need of questions to practise for tomorrow’s mock.

“ah, sure, give me a minute,” and he pulls out his phone, scrolling through an ocean of files and documents to look for the one you need. you do think he’s gorgeous though, it’s a well known fact that he’s stunning, but you think this look of heeseung surpasses the other ones quite easily— hairs wet after shower, partially covering his forehead, a white t-shirt that’s slightly wet near the shoulders because of the water dripping down— you wish he’d at least dry his hair before catching a cold. “actually, i would have replied to your texts if you had— oh, yes, there you go. do you want me to email it to you or…?”

“oh, just texts would be fine, thank you,”

“done,” a pause, you feel his eyes on you as you go through the pdf to take a brief look at the contents. “do you want to go for a walk? or are you getting back to studies?” at this point, you’re sure that question is a way to tease you about your obsession with studies. heeseung may think you’re overdoing it because you want to win, but it’s no more than the normal amount of hours you spend studying. he never paid you any attention to care about that.

“no, i’m done for today, actually,” and that’s a big fat lie considering you were planning to solve some questions and revise two chapters before leaving the campus, but it’s fine. you feel bad for rejecting him six times either way.

never in your life did you imagine that you’d be going on a walk with heeseung. it’s nothing serious, you just didn’t think there would be a day where you two would have normal people conversation while doing normal people activities instead of trying to disparage each other based on grades and academic performances. to think about it now, heeseung isn’t half bad, it was all in your head. it’s not like you had vile assumptions about him, you did find him annoying and way too prideful— anyone like him would be, actually, and heeseung is still quite humble about his achievements because if it was someone else, they sure would have made it everyone’s problem.

actually, heeseung is insufferable as well. you remember your first encounter with him, first and so far, the worst— in the laboratory. you and heeseung sat next to each other and when the professor asked him to briefly explain his experiment, you realised it’s oddly similar to yours. you had accused him of cheating, like any sane person would, which led to him getting two scores less than a perfect. he only lost one score because of you, actually, and that too because you were professor’s favourite and heeseung was new to the department. the other score, you don’t know where he missed, but that incident led to heeseung deleting your powerpoint thirty minutes before your presentation, which led you stealing his notes and selling it some junior through an undercover twitter account, which led to the professor asking you to help him with notes before exams, and everything ultimately led to the realisation that heeseung is actually quite decent if you behave with decency as well. the give and take is serious for him, because he gave you notes and so, you had to take his offer of going on a walk. even though it seemed like you had a choice, a part of you knew it was a mirage. you would’ve ended up on a walk with heeseung one way or another.

“i come here whenever i’m tired or just not feeling well,” he says and you wake up from your daydream of memories you shared with heeseung. the way he phrases his words makes it sound like he has brought you to one of his most secret locations, one that no one knows except taehyun, probably, considering they’re close friends, but in reality, it’s the playground you pass by every single day on your way from your apartment to university.

“oh, are you okay? are you nervous for tomorrow’s match?” you continue, deciding you shouldn’t ruin his favourite place for him. honestly, no one would’ve guessed that lee heeseung would come to a children’s park on bad days.

“actually, this walk was for you, you looked like you’d pass out if you spent another hour in front of books,” and you’re done, standing speechless with your eyes wide open at his words that he says with a victorious smile on his face. “you should start taking breaks, yn. it’s not a bad thing to go home earlier when you’re tired,”

he’s right, oh, you know he’s absolutely right about everything he just said, from passing out to going home. a part of him probably even feels glad to have you out on his little walk with him, you’re getting your well deserved rest, thanks to him. heeseung might even ask if he can walk you home considering you’re ‘done for today,’ which is very thoughtful of him— but what does this make you? a liar? miyeon was right, you’re gambling, even though it’s not that serious. so far, you’ve lied about being done with your studies and the bet you made with heeseung because at this point, it’s more like a prank, except it’s not funny and that it might end up with him getting upset with you because tomorrow is basketball tournament’s finals and you’re here wasting his time, all because you lied.

a liar and a lover, on a date at children’s park— match made in theatre club, you’d say.

“are you sure this is not your way to manipulate into not studying and losing to you, just so you can date me?” you try to play it cool, knowing very well that it can be one of his tricks or whatsoever. after all, it’s the same heeseung who made you trip in front of your class just three days after being transferred.

“i was being genuine but it doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” of course, it doesn’t. he gets to win, after all. “can i walk you home?” just as you had guessed.

“i would love to go home but my bag is still in the library,” you had considered taking it with you, actually, but dismissed the thought once you realised you had to come back to the library and continue with your studies. albeit, you’re not studying, that’s on you for lying into oblivion and giving into his requests.

once again, you two are back to walking, this time back to the university campus. it’s nice, having a walk with heeseung, it’s sweet, slow, comforting, like slow music flowing around and engulfing you in its arms. the unsaid words are weighing on your shoulders, you can feel the pressure, but it’s not awkward. above the busy hustle of the city and blaring horns, it’s a quiet world with heeseung, it’s nice, like a warm hug after a long day. you didn’t think you had it in yourself to spend a minute next to him without overthinking and possibly starting a banter. you didn’t think heeseung had it in him either, to make a walk feel so close to home.

“so, how are you coping knowing you’re going to lose once again?” and, it’s back again. everything is a hoax actually— his looks? a trap. his smile? a trap. it’s all a facade because once he opens his mouth, nothing but horseshit comes out of it.

“very well, in fact, because i know i’m the one getting that first spot this time,” call it overconfidence but you really do think you’ll get your title back this time. you’ve been studying well and hard enough, solving questions and going through every extra set of notes and exercises your professor sent. although, you would claim to beat heeseung had you been prepared or not because it’s fun messing with him.

“i’d rather have you show some mercy, in that case,” before you know it, you’re already standing in front of the library. “academic defeat and a heartbreak, it already sounds painful. i hope you go easy on me,” it’s sarcastic, of course, all these saccharine words of confessions made you forget how he is under the layers of smiles and winks that adorn his face. a session full of silence follows, the comforting tranquillity morphing into something tensed as he steps closer, your breath getting caught up in your throat as your mind dysfunctions— it’s the effect he has.

“heeseung,” you put a finger on his lips— the only thing between him and you, the only thing helping you stay sane and composed at the moment, because only you know the struggle of pulling yourself together while standing inches away from heeseung as he grabs your wrist and plants a soft kiss on your finger before removing it from his lips.

“why, that’s unfair. you get to see me anytime you want while i have to wait because you’re busy studying, you even get to see me shirtless, and i can’t even get a kiss?” and you hate the look in his eyes, you hate how close he is standing and how it makes your heart go crazy. this isn’t even the beginning and you hate how you feel like you’ve already lost, and you hate how confident he is with every breath he breathes against your lips. “just kidding, see you tomorrow,”

and you hate how this is where you realise that you’ve fallen deep, and you’ve fallen hard.

IV. PLANET TO A SUN

heeseung has been thinking about the walk for an hour and twenty-seven minutes— actually more, ever since the moment he got home last night, but that is how long he has been practising for, eyes on the ball but mind revolving around you like a planet to a sun. you had texted him about a rule this morning— no kissing before finals. actually no kissing before we start dating, lee— your exact words. they have been holding him back from thinking straight, even made him practise an apology while looking in the mirror if in case his actions offended you in any way. lost in thought, heeseung manages to get another shot in. that’s twenty-third in a row ever since he stepped on the court, which is unbelievable, even for him.

“is it just me or did heeseung’s performance improve overnight?” jake looks up at jay, fastening his shoelace, a chuckle escaping his lips that goes unnoticed.

the latter offers a hand to jake, helping him stand as they share a laugh before jay passes him the ball. “well, of course it will. he has to impress his girlfriend today at finals,”

“she’s not my girlfriend,” heeseung grunts almost as if hearing you and the word girlfriend in the same sentences cuts ten years from his lifespan. he knows it doesn’t, he’d kill to call you his’. the reason behind his edgy behaviour is your text and the weird rule you’ve inserted in an already weird bet— it’s not like he minds it, the bet, obviously. heeseung definitely minds not getting to kiss you for the next few weeks.

“yet,” jay clarifies, emphasising enough for the world to understand that his words are supposed to be in italics. “she will be if you score more than her in finals, which i don’t think is possible because unlike you, she has been studying all day everyday. i don’t know how she’s still alive,” and jay isn’t half bad student himself. juniors in business have his name residing on the tips of their tongues. he simply thinks you’re a freak for being in no clubs and not participating in anything that doesn’t involve studying.

“she’s the top student for a reason,” jake adds.

“i am the top student,” and hearing his friends call you the top students hurts heeseung’s ego a little bit. crushes aside, you’re his rival before his girlfriend, and you’re not even his girlfriend. you’re basically just a rival. “also, it’s not hard to study all day if you’re used to it,”

and jay scoffs in disbelief. “right, you would know something about it, lee i can’t go a day without playing basketball heeseung,”

“hey, everyone,” your voice reverberating in the court is what stops heeseung from responding to jay with a snarky remark. “just wanted to wish you all goodluck. i really hope you guys win the tournament or else, it’s going to be hard for heeseung to deal with two loses after i beat him in finals as well,”

heeseung rolls his eyes in disbelief, you hear taehyun exclaim that he has been team yn since the very first day, a claim that few others proceed to back up, especially sunghoon, with his own lore of how he prays everyday for you to win the bet with heeseung. you’re honoured to receive such support, to some extent. a part of you still wishes for the whole thing to be a secret restricted to just heeseung and you but again, it was your fault for placing bets in court, in front of the entirety of the basketball team to witness, even their coach.

“you’re a little too confident, don’t you think so?” he smirks, taking a few steps towards you with the ball supported between his arms and torso. “let me know where you’d like to go for our first date,” and it turns out heeseung is just as confident about winning the bet as you, perhaps even more. you are not surprised, being defending champions does that to people, or so you believe.

“mhm, let’s have you score a date first, lee,” you would have loved to talk more but decide to bid your goodbyes as soon as hanbin’s message pops up on your phone, the little scowl on heeseung’s face going unnoticed the moment he sees his name on your phone screen. heeseung would never in his wildest dream confess to being jealous— it doesn’t even make sense for him to be jealous of hanbin because he confessed to you, and you seem to like him back. his worries are pointless just like the useless art projects his art teacher used to assign in middle school.

your fingers dance on the keyboard of your phone as you reply to hanbin, the subtle taps synchronous with your steps with you rushing across the quadrangle, taking the nearest flight of stairs to the library. you wanted to spend the day at your apartment since classes are suspended for the rest of the day on account of the match. however, hanbin managed to convince you into coming to the library to help him with a few assignments here and there. you’re not opposed to studying on days-off, in fact you think it’s better since you get all twenty-four hours to yourself instead of investing any of it in classes. the match gave you an excuse to call in for a break, or an excuse to take your time choosing the outfits as if you’re the main character on such a big day.

the librarian gestures to you to slow down the moment you almost avoid slipping on the tiled floor, in the process of holding the door frame to stop yourself, an embarrassed apology makes its way from you to her as you spot hanbin in the further corner with his airpods plugged in. your first instinct is to scare him from behind but the thought leaves your mind as soon as you remember that you’re in a library, and getting kicked out on a day that has been treating you well so far doesn’t sound so smart.

so, you settle with approaching normal, instead of pulling random stunts, pulling out the chair opposite to him quietly to not make any sounds, mumbling a soft ‘hi’ as he takes out one of his airpods. “where’s miyeon?”

“sick, she’s skipping today’s match as well,” hanbin replies, eyes fixed on the notes he's copying from the laptop to loose sheets of paper, before looking up at you with another question on the tip of his tongue. “are you two still not talking?”

“we did, none of us brought up what happened that day, though,” you shrug as if it doesn't bother you anymore, as if you don't want it to bother you more than it already does.

miyeon and you have known each other since university, she was a senior in undergrad course who was forced by financial circumstances to skip one academic year, thus rejoining in third year along with you and hanbin. seeing her was less frequent while she was still a senior, although you're not sure if you've spent more than three days away from her ever since postgrad school started. a heavy tension masks all your conversations with her, over texts or in person, and even though you're trying to act like the small talks with her don't hurt you, a part of you is starting to miss the best friend you used to talk to all night, about wasted matters and sharing useless gossip.

silence fills in for the lack of words between you and hanbin and you allow it to do so, deciding not to disturb the decorum of the library anymore. you scroll through your phone mindlessly, there’s nothing to look at except people going crazy about the evening's match. you even manage to stumble upon a thread of arguments featuring students of your university and the one the team is going against. it’s all empty threats, seriously, ‘kys’ and ‘ur mom’s in my bed’ aren’t even insults at this point. they’re funny, sometimes, but you’ll never understand why or how they ended up being insults. ( honestly, you don’t see the potential )

“are you serious about heeseung?” a crack in the ice, hanbin's question catches you off guard, with a number of questions running back and forth in your mind before you settle with the one to respond with in return.

you blink in confusion. “i guess so, why?”

“nothing, it’s just i never expected it to be him, y’know, considering your history,” you think it's unavoidable, questions along these lines, they would've been asked sooner or later. truthfully, even you didn't expect yourself to fall for heeseung.

your history, what even is there to call history except blood and war? both you and heeseung have been up each other's neck from the moment your gazes collided. it sounds like a stupid beef between highschool students, almost embarrassing now that you both are nearing post graduation. with all the days that you’ve spent thinking about ways to get on his nerves, or worse— ruin his projects, it wasn’t just you who resorted to ruining each other’s hard work— no one would have known you and heeseung would ever end up on this note, with him chasing you and you pinning for him, all under the blankets of a silly bet.

“well, as i always say, hanbin, life is unpredictable,” there’s a smile dancing on your lips, a dazzling hint of factuality in your eyes. “besides, he’s a nice guy behind all the annoying things he does. i think he's pretty serious about me, or us, too,”

hanbin has noticed the way you smile at your phone. it doesn’t always happen, only when you’re talking with miyeon or a few friends from highschool, now heeseung ranks up on that list as well. he’d be lying if the uneasiness doesn’t bother him, it’s bound to surface when he remembers all the nights you spent complaining about heeseung. actually, the rant session included hanbin, you and miyeon, but she would rather go to sleep than listen to you complain like a child for hours on roll, leaving you and hanbin driving the conversation. he has lost count of the amount of times you’ve ended up crying in the process, or the amount of times he has hung up on you only to show up at your place late at night to make sure you’re doing okay, and the nights you two have spent watching movies and falling asleep on the couch, followed by the mornings gone by with miyeon being salty over the fact that none of you invited her to your impromptu nightover.

the thought of heeseung confessing to you still surprises hanbin, it’s one of the things he deemed as impossible since forever. and he can go, warn heeseung about hurting you, dropping all sorts of threats at the boy. hanbin can go on for hours about how he would make heeseung’s life a living hell if he ever broke your heart. he can prove the righteous friend that he is, but at the end of day, he would always be the third person between you and heeseung. hanbin can only assume so much about you two, not even sure if all of it is right. he can only wish so much for you to have eyes for someone else.

and so, all he does is shoot a smile at you. “i hope he is,”

the only time you step out of the library is exactly three hours and thirty three minutes later, to sprint towards the basketball knowing that you absolutely cannot afford losing seats in the first two rows. fortunately, or unfortunately enough, you’re not the only student going crazy about the game. you can swear at least a dozen came out of the library right after you, even though all of them may not attend the game.

you’re already running late— well, still twenty minutes early but that doesn’t give you much time to meet the team and secure the front row seats. and meeting the team is an excuse, let’s be honest. you want to meet heeseung, have a quick private talk, kiss him good luck, you don’t know; you wouldn’t. your head is in a mess, behind you hanbin is yelling for you to slow down as you run down the stairs. half of you is worrying about seats and the other half is wording her sentences out for you to say when you meet heeseung, and the team. you can wish them all the luck in the world, after all, it’s the university team and you would love to see them win. the whole craze about sports doesn’t feel real and worth the hype but things start coming full circle when you’re the one watching. slowly, as one would expect, but you are starting to understand why everyone goes bonkers during tournament season.

“damn, slow down,” hanbin huffs, grabbing your arm for you to slow down. “it’s not like they wouldn’t start without you,”

“that’s the problem. what if they start without me?” but your legs wouldn’t rest before arriving at the court. you know your words sound funny, painting you as if the result of today’s match depends on you. it feels crazy to be this excited about a mere basketball match, nonetheless you know it’s not the match you’re actually looking forward to. “besides, i’m more worried about seats,”

“i asked hao to save two for us. he’s friends with heeseung, i think he will do that much for his friend’s girlfriend or whatsoever,” you see him roll his eyes at his own words, proceeding to slide his hands into yours before continuing on your way to the venue, this time a little slower.

you have heard about hao from hanbin and miyeon a few times. he’s pursuing a masters in music, wants to teach violin professionally according to hanbin. miyeon has even attended one of his recitals last autumn, something from sibelius, if you remember correctly. he is popular, and you see the depths of his popularity as soon as you spot him on the bleachers, surrounded by people left and right, one of them trying to grab a seat next to him before he points at you and hanbin, and the crowd goes mild, ultimately dissolves as the players step in.

“i didn’t know heeseung had a girlfriend,” you don’t know what you were expecting, perhaps a few words of greetings, hi’s and hello’s since you two are meeting for the first time. anything, except that question.

“believe me, i didn’t either,” and why even is heeseung going around telling everyone that you’re his girlfriend?

the court breaks into cheers as soon as the game commences and yet, it feels a little quite. perhaps, it’s miyeon’s absence getting to you. had it been her next to you instead of hanbin and hao— who are busy amongst themselves by the way, talking about anything but the match— she would’ve been eating snacks non-stop, giving you a little talk on every player, like a resume. it’s take her fifteen minutes to give you summaries on players from each team, their achievements, girlfriends and probably even mothers, who knows. although, you haven’t attend many games with miyeon to pinpoint every good and bad thing about her impromptu presentation, her unofficial commentary helped you sit throughout the match. it feels incomplete without her, not just the game but days in general. it’s definitely her absence making your surroundings feel quieter.

so, long story short, you don’t have a clue of what’s happening. well, you do, a little. you know what a dunk and a three pointer is besides the names of players on your university team, but that basically sums up your knowledge about basketball. all sorts of voices are mingling in the air but you’re busy following the ball around the court with your gaze, occasionally cursing and clapping when the team misses a close basket or scores a comparatively difficult basket. the tension between the two teams keeps rising as the game continues. you notice sunghoon groan in disappointment as one of the players from the opposite team gets in a banked shot from the wings, scoring two points for the team. a part of the crowd goes quieter at jay’s failed attempt to save the score for his team, beomgyu patting on jay’s back while muttering something along the lines of ‘good job.’ involuntarily, your eyes travel to heeseung, whose expression stiffens at the sight of the scoreboard displaying a two-point lag.

a time out call follows as the players move back to their respective ends, and it physically hurts you to see the difference in atmosphere between the two teams, or the frowns on the faces of players on your university team. for a second, you even consider walking down to them as they gather around the coach, grabbing water bottles and towels while nodding at the coach’s words between heavy breaths. you catch jake looking in your direction for a brief second, a smile makes its way to your lips before he responds with one as well, proceeding to nudge heeseung’s arm and pointing in your direction. his actions are left with no response— it hurts a little, although you are aware that anything else falls after winning the match on his priority list— and they get back on the court as the game resumes.

“they need to catch up soon,” hanbin mutters, taking a look at the clock. and even if it’s just a two point difference, you’re starting to understand why it creates a huge gap. it’s almost like scores on a test. going from eighty-three to ninety then hundred is easier than going from ninety-eight to hundred. greater differences are easier to overcome; for you have so many rooms for improvisation and thus, so many chances at closing the gap. the closer you are to a perfect score, the narrower are the chances and it’s almost impossible to pin-point and work on every single weakness of yours within those two points. you’re pretty sure your words would hardly make sense to anyone else, but nonetheless you understand why everyone on the court looks more attentive, probably like meerkats on the lookout for preys and predators.

much to your disappointment, the play continues with the rivals dominating the court, giving low to zero chances for the opposition to get their hands on the balls. you even see a few of them trying to provoke heeseung, the latter trying his best to not react but you’re afraid he would start throwing punches if another one of the players passed by him with his middle finger up heeseung’s face. one of them, who you assume is the captain judging from the way he has been directing his team, goes in for a hook, immediately getting blocked by taehyun as the court bursts into loud cheers once again.

“that was a little too far for a hook,” hao comments, and you nod as if you understand his words and know exactly how a hook is supposed to be. you didn’t even know about a hook until now, and you’re still not sure what it is since all the shots look almost the same to you.

from that second onwards, it felt as if the control transferred to heeseung’s teams as they transition quickly from defence to offence, making quick passes and running the court, practically catching the opposite team off guard. jay passes the ball to jake, who takes a leap from half court, driving towards the unguarded basket. a quick layup using the backboard, as you hear hanbin name the shot, and basically everyone runs to jake for scoring two points for the team as the scoreboards displays a sour tie. it’s a seemingly easy match after that, especially when the players look like they’re back into the game. sunghoon passes the ball to heeseung who goes for another layup and fails, much to his despair, before going in for a dunk and scoring yet another basket for the team, leading it by two points. you see him passing a cocky smirk at the player from before as jake pats him in the back with heeseung almost stumbling in the process.

heeseung shoots you a wink before focusing on sunghoon’s words as they get back into position, and even amidst the butterflies you got by his recent actions, you don’t miss the way he stretches his fingers, ring-finger specifically, pointing something about the movements to jay before getting his focus back to the game; and you just hope it isn’t what you’re thinking it is.

it’s a slow game after that, no points scored, four fouls with two of them back to back, one by each team respectively. the frustration increases on the court, evident in each step taken by the players, groans and sighs fill the atmosphere and get louder than the cheers that have gone quieter once again. it isn’t until a few minutes later that all the players run to the front court as soon as they see an opportunity for a fast break with taehyun taking the lead, passing the ball to jay just a few seconds after, who passes it to heeseung— and call it the lack of efficiency or bad timing, heeseung bumps into one of the players from opposite team, an uneven balance, and falls directly on his right knee, as one of the opposite players throws the ball off-bounds to stop the play.

the medics take him to the benches, bringing ice packs and everything else before escorting him inside. you considered following him inside before hanbin tells you that the officials aren’t letting anyone meet him, probably until they receive updates of his situations. you bite the inside of your cheeks in nervousness, palms sweating as if you’re about to appear for an exam you weren’t informed about until five minutes ago, or maybe it’s even worse. the murmurs from the crowd or the group of girls behind you, to be more specific, do nothing but make you feel more anxious. zhang hao, being a sports medicine student, tries to give you an insight on heeseung’s injury, telling you that even if he fell directly on his knee and it could result in a patella fracture, or perhaps just dislocation— words that compel you to yell at him to shut up before he ensures that heeseung will be fine. hanbin does that for you, noticing your slightly panicked state, telling hao to talk about anything but anatomy of how badly a simple injury can affect a player, and when sunghoon and taehyun return to the officials with an update on heeseung and a pale face, you knew you had to run to your heeseung as if it’s the end of the world.

“heeseung,” you breathe out, stepping aside to let the nurse from the infirmary leave before you walk closer to him. the awkwardness between you and other players, namely jay, jake and beomgyu, besides the coach, rings all the bells to remind you that coming here was probably a bad idea. well, of course, you like heeseung and are worried for him, but the tension in the air makes you feel like you showed up uninvited. “are you okay?”

you ask nonetheless, voice close to a whisper, as you stand at a distance, looking at the bruise on his knee. the smell of antiseptic spray fills your lungs, nose scrunching at the way you could almost taste the diclofenac at the back of your mouth.

“not really,” he inhales sharply, exhaling a reply once everyone left, knowing they had a game to get back to. “look at you, are you worried for me?”

“i’m regretting coming here now,” liar. and then you let the silence carry the conversation with itself for the next few minutes. you don’t know what to say— what can you say? all you do is sit next to him, hands brushing against his as his winces at the slightest touch. heeseung opened his mouth to say something before dismissing his words with a heavy sigh the very next moment. you almost hold his hand— almost, thinking of holding it ever so carefully as if it’s glass with thousands of cracks, and then you’d kiss it ever so delicately, you did it— almost, but then, it’s just you getting upset over the fact that he played even after hurting his hand.

“so, they’re benching you,” you say in an attempt to strike a conversation, a little conflicted with your choice of words, wondering if he even wants to hear about something related to the match at the moment.

“of course,” he says it like a matter of fact, a fact whose impact doesn’t seem to touch him. “please tell me they have jeno substituting for me. i’ve barely been getting updates in the group chat,” the least he expected was for one of the substitute players to keep him updated about the game through texts, and heeseung planned to get back to the court until you showed up, taking a seat next to him on the benches in the locker room. you don’t understand why they didn’t take him to the infirmary, and decided to think it’s because locker rooms are closer and if there’s anything heeseung should not be doing right now, it’s moving his injured leg.

you shrug. “i don’t know, i’ll ask hanbin,”

“thanks,” and even though heeseung isn’t really fond of your friend for reasons that are widely known, at least amidst his friend group, he really hopes hanbin is of some use.

it’s quiet now. you can hear faint cheers buried in the layers of walls and rooms that stand between the court and the locker room, a few muffled footsteps filling up any spaces left in the air, here and there. you assume it’s his fans trying to check up on him, as annoying as it sounds to you for you’d rather have this moment with him all to yourself. you hear him sigh heavily once every few minutes, trying to ball his injured fingers up in a fist to allow the slightest of moments and ensure healthy circulation, a soft hiss leaving his lips at the sensation of striking pain shooting up his nerves. unlike heeseung, your attention shifts to his injured knee with a faint chill running down your spine as you look at his bruise, which now looks more bluish than it was when you had arrived, signifying the possibly alarming amount of blood that has now clotted in the tissues.

“you can cry,” nudge him with your shoulders and heeseung directs you to the most disgusted face in return. “what? it’s the finals and you’re injured so you won’t be able to play today. any normal person would sob their eyes out,”

“i’m not a kid, yn,” he nudges back, a chuckle slipping off his lips.

“trying to act all cool but you’re probably going to cry yourself to sleep for days, or even weeks,” he holds out his hand for you to hold it as you stand up, an action you give into without opposition, intertwining your fingers with his. there’s a smug smile on your face and he sees it as well, although only you know the way your heart is somersaulting at the way your hands fit his’ like pieces of a puzzle. “i know what you are, heeseung,”

he scoffs at your words, hands still entwined, a lovesick glow in his eyes— it’s your first time seeing this side of him, you’re glad to be one of the people to see it. silence has never felt so comfortable to you. the distant noise from court feels like it rushed on its way to you and heeseung, and stopped at the doors, as if you two are beyond its reach. you might never say it to him, but everything seemingly ceases to exist when you’re with him, and the world feels timeless. it’s embarrassing, cringe, and it’s making your heart beat faster with the way he looks at you. “you need to shut up,”

“make me?” a quick response, one that was supposed to be a joke, a joke which was supposed to be accompanied by laughter and brushed off as another baseless comment, but another second passes as you continue to look into his eyes, and you realise you’re actually considering it— leaning in towards him while giving his hand a light tug to pull him towards you the slightest, your other hand cupping his face as your gaze ghosts up his eyes and settles on his lips. when it comes to him, rationality is out of the window and your lips are on his’ planting the softest kiss at the corner of his mouth before pulling away like nothing ever happened.

a pause; you could hear the silence ringing in your years, eyes fixed over him as if you’re spilling all your secrets to him, waiting for him to take a hint. “what even happened to the ‘no kissing before finals’ rule?’”

and you realise you had actually forgotten about it, for better and never for the worse, because as you said and as he repeated, it’s all about timing. empty locker rooms, quiet hallways with not a soul around, your hand in his, his eyes on you— the timing couldn’t be better, and you know better than messing up and letting heeseung become just a closed chapter of your life. “yeah, i could care less about that,”

there are a lot of things you could care less about, like the cold metal that stings against your back as he pushes you against the lockers, or the fact that anyone could walk in, any minute; you don’t care, don’t know. his lips are on yours and his hands are on your waist, it feels euphoric the way his lips move in synchrony with yours, fitting like puzzle pieces. heeseung tugs you closer by your waist, a faint gasp escaping your mouth that dissolves immediately into your breaths mingling together. it’s intoxicating and is making you go insane, the way he manages to sweep you off your feet with the smallest of actions and simplest of words— from the very first day.

heeseung was right, and you as well, it’s all about timing. from the day you first looked at him in a seminar, to the day he switched to biotech— you plan on asking him why because so far, all your guesses seem implausible— down to the day he confessed, leading up to this moment with you pressing against the lockers and his lips against against yours. heeseung sighs softly, cupping your cheeks and tilting your head to deepen the kiss, and you could feel the heat of his breath against your lips when you pull away just when it was about to get better, avoiding his lips when he leans in to chase yours barely a millisecond later. your eyes shift down to his hand, one that has been injured during the game, and you proceed to hold it carefully, brushing your lips over the bruise lightly before adorning it with feathery kisses as his other hand travels down to your waist once again, pulling you closer. “you should go easy on yourself,”

you whisper the exact same words he had told you a day ago, traversing your eyes back towards him while your gazes have a conversation so foreign, as if it’s only for the silence to understand. and it’s quite literally just the two of you basking in silence as he rests his head against the crook of your neck, planting a few kisses here and there before pulling you even closer, as if you were going to disappear any second. “i think, i’m in love with you,”

and timing be damned— because heeseung confesses to you once again, and then he’s kissing you once again, slowly, sweetly, in love, and timing doesn’t even matter because every second feels right with him. with the same air of delighted indifference he comes to know well in the gleam of your touch and the curl of your lips, you simply kiss him back as if to say, hate to admit, but i’m in love with you too. and timing really be damned because you hear loud rounds of cheers as you feel his shoulders stiffen. a slight disconnection between you and heeseung makes you wonder if he’s thinking about the results of the game, which is inevitable, but this is about you and him, and nothing else. you hear the notifications from his phone go off, hinting that the match is probably over, and you pull him into another kiss, another round of selfishness guised as an outlet for him to forget about the game, another round of messy make outs, tasting the freedom of ignorance.

and then you don’t hear from heeseung again.

V. OBJECT OF ALL DESIRES

days without heeseung feel like they’re forty-eight hours long.

you think it’s a disease or some sort of withdrawal syndrome. this isn’t your first time without him, in fact, you used to do just fine without him in your life until you let him in. at this point, it isn’t even about not being able to see him— heeseung has been absent for almost seven days. you even asked jay about him to see if he has been in contact with any of his teammates but much to your disappointment, he disappeared off the face of earth like he never existed. taehyun has constantly been reminding you to not fret too much, knowing that heeseung gets a little dramatic after losing matches. you can take his word, obviously, a friend from highschool would know heeseung better than a girl who started talking to him normally barely weeks ago, although you couldn’t help but worry about him as seconds passed like water dripping down the tap, disturbing the silence.

you know how losses feel— like a part of you has been taken out and you’re left to bleed. it’s worse when it’s about something you’ve loved all your life. you’ve walked next to losses, hand in hand. when you know you’ve lost something while having it in the palms of your hands the whole time, the feeling eats you inside. you wonder if heeseung is feeling the same way you think he is, even if he didn’t show it a week ago when you had met him in the clubroom, the feeling starts to sink in when you’re alone amidst the ghosts of nobodies. even though he was smiling and acting like the little shit he is, you felt anger and regret in the way he kissed you. there was a sense of numbness dripping down his fingertips in the way they brushed against your cheeks, cupping your face. you could’ve been a sweet escape— it hurts to admit that the emotions weren’t possibly real, but you couldn’t blame him.

losing a match, to put it in your words, meant failing in a test; and losing because of an injury, it’s like skipping a test you prepared for, because of fever. except tests can be rescheduled for students who missed— a luxury heeseung, as a basketball player, cannot enjoy. even you couldn’t believe your eyes when the students on the forum started talking about the lost match, all sorts of comments going around, though none targeted at heeseung, fortunately. yet, your first instinct was to dial his number— out of reach, the first thing you hear on the other side of the line, and all you’ve been hearing for days now.

you had considered cutting ties with him, not literally, but as in stopping to chase him as if he’s the oxygen you inspire. you could’ve showed up at miyeon’s place with apologies, her favourite snacks and a brief explanation of why you did what you did, and everything that has happened as the consequences of your own actions. with weekends approaching, you could’ve planned a two-day trip with her and hanbin before the winter snow made it hard to commute— just anything to get your mind off heeseung, since apparently, you weren’t on his mind either. albeit, you end up doing nothing, no trips, no plans to see miyeon, it’s just you and your bruised heart with soju on the side. your mind is way too cluttered with thoughts about heeseung to focus on studying and at the same time, it’s way too empty to try doing anything else.

so, you simply venture down the hallways, drowning in all kinds of thoughts, good and bad. you can use the time to study but concentration has been far out of your reach ever since the match, or ever since he went underground, to be more specific. the impromptu make out session was probably his last straw— it makes sense. you kissed someone who had been walked out of a match because of an injury instead of consoling them. you let your feelings get the best of you, making everything about yourself yet again. you won’t be surprised if heeseung decides to ghost you for the rest of his life after that; or maybe, that’s not possible since you see a familiar figure sitting in the outdoor basketball court, spinning the ball with it’s axis on the ground in a directionless manner.

“heeseung?” you notice his back tense at the sound of you calling his name, head down low as if he’s responding with an exasperated sigh. “where the hell have you been? i’ve been trying to reach you— heck, even your friends haven’t heard a word from you in days,”

“not now, yn, leave me alone,” and an exasperated sigh is what it was.

“look, i know—”

“just, what part of leaving me alone do you not understand?” you try to speak but heeseung cuts you off just as efficiently as he does other things, with annoyance heavily evident in his words. had it not been heeseung, you would’ve left already, for you have more important things to tend to, and you’re certainly not interested in matters you’re not supposed to be included in, if only it wasn’t heeseung, and if only you weren’t crazily worried for him.

“oh, i understand it clearly, every part, actually, and i also understand that you’re upset and leaving you alone would certainly not be the best move considering the way you went MIA for a week,” and you understand his impulses about disappearing into thin air, wishing the ground eats him up or for the walls to cave in till he’s entombed in them, but a person as smart as him should know taking out helps better than thinking about wanting to vanish. “we can sit and have a talk if you stop being such an asshole about it. i’m down to listen to—”

“fine, what do you want to hear about?” he cuts you off in annoyances, the ball rolls down to a distance like your heart when you see the unfamiliar emotion in his eyes. “you were right. i went home and have been crying myself to sleep. i haven’t been eating well either. i skipped five out of nine mocks and barely passed the four i gave, let’s add that too. is that enough?”

you don’t like the way he puts it, as if it’s supposed to make you feel better. maybe about the bet, maybe, since he’s supposed to rank above you in finals to get around dating you, and maybe watching him lose is supposed to offer you some sort of relief— seriously, what you’re feeling right now is far from that. guilt, anger, shame, you’re not unfamiliar with those emotions. they eat you inside and it’s not because you’ve met with defeat, it’s because of falling off all the expectations people had, giving them another reason to point fingers and laugh. you could be really over-reacting, but if you didn’t have your parents telling you it’s going to be fine every time you didn’t do well on tests, you don’t know where you would’ve been right now. and you think you can play a part of the same for heeseung, if not all.

you sit next to him, nose scrunching at the sight of dust on the cement laid with cracks. that’s what you get with an outdoor court no longer in use. you can see little plantlets germinating from the soil, emerging through the cracks, the rusted ring catches your eye. heeseung huffs as you settle next to him, wondering exactly how long the court has been unused for, considering its lack of maintenance. “let’s date,”

and your words are not what you were planning to say or what should be said in this situation, but they still manage to extract a response from him. “don’t play with me,”

“i’m not, in fact, that is what i’ve been wanting to say to you for days. of course, this isn’t the best timing, but i don’t know what else to say,” you pause in what feels like embarrassment. too bad, his crush is not good at conversations. sometimes you end up nodding and blinking for five minutes straight before saying anything, after a person opens up to you with tears and blood. “and, i’m not going to tell you to stop acting like a child or whatever because the team lost such an important match and somewhere, you’re blaming yourself for it, which you shouldn’t, by the way. all i need to say is that you still have the next year to make up for what you’ve lost now,”

second chances come with higher expectations from people along with words that end up making one feel worse about their situation. you’ve already heard a few students talk about how heeseung should’ve been more ‘careful’— as if it was his choice to get injured and lose the match. you know it wasn’t going to be easy, especially with his injury that probably requires him out of the court for weeks, but you hope that amidst whatever he’s feeling, between self-loath and regret, heeseung manages to find himself once again.

“actually, i’m planning to drop out of the team next year and focus on studies. my parents were already against me playing basketball during postgrad, i’m finally starting to notice why,” basketball could’ve been his entire career if heeseung’s grandmother had not wished for him to go into the medical field. seeing the insides of a person makes him want to empty his bowel from the mouth so biotechnology was his next option. heeseung thought having two hands would give him the benefit of managing basketball and academics together, unlike how his parents had wished for, but his recent mock scores and lack of time devoted to studies is making him question his choices. “and what the hell were you on about dating, by the way?”

you’re half immersed in your own thoughts until heeseung directs the question at you— brows furrowed, confusion shadowing his face— you realise it’s your turn to do the talking. “oh, you know, dating. i think we should start dating already, it’s quite inevitable after that day in the clubroom,”

it is evitable, really, but you’re down bad— with all due respect.

you haven’t been okay ever since you realised that you like heeseung, and you’ve been trying to act normal about it, attempting to not lose your cool-hard-to-get-girl composure— miyeon’s words, and they make you cringe— while the thought of him is eating your brain slowly and gradually, making you go insane. if you were to narrate from where you opened and closed the door at, it would be a slippery slope, you don’t know how someone ends up falling for the person they despise. the yn from a month or two ago would be knowing, you can see her shrugging and getting back to her books, saying see saw it coming. ( it’s miyeon’s fault for making you even think about having a mind blowing chemistry with heeseung ) the you from two semesters ago, when he first transferred, would hate you and call you a traitor, might even write whore on a mirror while looking at it because you fold at the sight of hot, smart and sporty men who are perfect at everything, even at ruining someone’s life, like he’s ruining yours; and the yn from highschool, you see her squealing on the floor because oh, what a fan of enemies to lovers she was— heeseung wouldn’t even have been in the current picture if your highschool crush slash rival liked you back. the current you, well, she’s a goner, and in denial that she’s a goner. too much pride does something to a person, especially when you’re an over-scorer and an academic weapon. you’ve lost all your abilities of letting your guard down even once, refusing to give up and accept defeat, no matter how tortuous it is on the inside.

the current you is more like a victorian man looking at ankles for the very first time.

“and the bet? what happened to it?” he chuckles, of course, anyone would, considering the way you’ve lost after placing the bet with utmost confidence slash overconfidence. see, it never ends well, anything, with overconfidence, it doesn’t end well, never have and never will. and you, you don’t learn, sitting with the very well known fact that if you were given the chance, you would place the bet with him again.

“ah, i didn’t mean to do that, honestly. i was confused when you confessed, it was so sudden, i didn’t know how to respond. the bet was the best i could come up with,” miyeon was right, you could’ve used something along the lines of ‘i need some time,’ that day instead of pulling out a bet right out of your ass, and now you don’t know how to save face. at least the fact that heeseung confessed first makes you feel a little better about yourself. “c’mon, i know you love challenges. i was just trying to see if it gets you turned on or something,”

and heeseung scoffs in disbelief, eyeing you at your choice of words. “yeah, i feel very turned on knowing my crush dragged me into a bet that i’ve been working so hard for and she wasn’t even serious about it,”

“working hard? from what i saw, the only thing you worked hard for was basketball,” you raise your brows, a taunting intonation in your voice. a part of you regrets the choice of words, knowing that basketball is seemingly quite a sensitive topic to bring up at the moment. albeit, the slight fear evaporates off when he laughs and dismisses your words and nothings.

he leans a little closer, hands touching yours. “you never know what i’m up to at home,”

a pause; you look in his eyes and then at his lips, he mirrors your actions with a smirk on his face. you guess that there’s a second meaning to his words, not sure what, but the look in his eyes tells you something about it. “i think we should get back to when you were talking mental and i was talking you down,”

and you could grab his face and kiss him with no one around, on the unmaintained basketball court for the grey and cloudy skies to see. you could run your hands through his hairs and tell him how crazy he makes you while planting kisses down his neck. you can kiss him till both of your lungs are begging for oxygen, and that's when you'd tell him how he makes you feel— breathless and drowning, a little insane every time you see him flirting with someone that's not you. you can kiss him till the sun goes down and evening takes over, it doesn't matter if you're outside for the world to see. you would've kissed him if heeseung hadn't leaned back, looking at the ball lying stray at a distance.

“by the way, i’d love to date you,” he smiles at the infinite horizon before looking at you, as if waiting for a response already known.

“yeah, i figured that,” you try to play it cool as if you’re all knowing. it’s partially true, he did confess to you first. “let’s make another bet: no kissing before finals, and the one who ends up giving in first has to buy dinner,” you come up with yet another bet, your voice hinting the enthusiasm for no apparent reason.

heeseung squints at you, a little conflicted, quite unsure of your words. it sounds like a moment of deja vu, hopefully on a better note this time ‘round. “that’s not even valid, we made out not even a week ago,”

“let bygones be bygones, hee,” he likes the sound of the little nickname you've given him, unlike bygones, the word you use to refer to your very first kiss with him as if it's an unfortunate memory. “it’s decided then, no kissing before finals and the loser has to buy dinner, and i won’t be satisfied with anything less than a five star meal,”

you squint, index finger pointing at him, a challenging composure. another chuckle from him makes it’s way to you, lips curling into a faint smile. it takes you all the way back to the day you placed your first bet with him, with head empty and no logic, for the entirety of the basketball team to see, hear, and talk about it as if it’s supposed to be on the headlines of the national newspaper. your eyes spark up in anticipation, wondering if the two of you are down for another bet, one that doesn’t proceed towards failure, hopefully.

“the last time you did something like this, you ended up running back to me and asking me to date you,” he scoffs softly, side-eyeing you with a mocking gaze, quite ready to pull out the receipts if you ever deny his words. you hate how correct he is, all the time, actually, and you hate how you don’t have words to argue back.

lee heeseung, a nobody to you till he switched to your department, just some student who was there to pass time until he started ranking above you on tests and flipped your whole world upside down. you tried to not think about him and failed every time— still beats you why. you’ve never let distractions get the best of you, but heeseung, perhaps he’s more than just a distraction, or maybe he isn’t a distraction at all. he’s like a plant in your garden that you could care less about— should care less about, it’s growing without harming your plants, but it’s creeping against a wall with pretty flowers for show, and before you know it, it’s demanding for all your attention that you offer without second thoughts, unwillingly at first.

he’s the bane of your existence and object of all your desires, to put it simply and make it sound cliché. you’ve had your moments trying to run away from him, get him out of your head, annoy him to the point he’d prefer flying to the other side of the globe, or that could be you too, anywhere, far from him. but life, for the thousandth time, is unpredictable. when was the last time something worked out exactly how you had planned— can’t remember, obviously, just like the way you don’t remember when heeseung started occupying a corner of your brain, popping in and out at random times and disrupting your thought process. the more you tried to ignore him, the further he housed in your head, the deeper in your heart, closer, within your reach, as if for you to grab his hands and let him enter your side of the world.

and so, you kiss him again, pulling him towards you with the collars of his jacket. you feel him smile, a triumphant smile, as expected from someone who is used to winning. you don't think you can say you've lost, not at the way he cups your cheeks and tilts his head to deepen the kiss just moments before you pull away. “i always run back to you, don’t i?”

and you're a child infatuated with their favourite sport, a painter falling in love with strokes, a pianist dancing to the melody of rachmaninoff, a student addicted to getting a perfect score, a player addicted to winning. you trace back to things you like, you always run back to heeseung,

and you always would.

TEN MINUTES LATER :

heeseung plants a soft peck on your lips. “dinner’s on you,”

“fuck!”

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beomboomboom · 3 months

Text

Important

genre: fluff, angst, established relationship

pairing: idol!Jihoon x reader

summary: Jihoon is a busy guy, everyone knows that. But why does it hurt so much when he can't even make time for his own girlfriend? All you want is Jihoon's love and affection, why is that so difficult?

warnings: a bit of swearing

note: This fic includes some lyrics from the song All My Love by SEVENTEEN (If you haven't heard this song, I strongly recommend you listen to it. It's such a good song!!) I hope you enjoy reading the fic <33

"Am I really that important to you?"

There's tears in your eyes when you ask Jihoon the question you've been wondering about for the past few weeks.

Part of you knows you're just being irrational. Jihoon has other things he needs to focus on. He's an idol and a producer for fucks sake, it's practically guaranteed that he's going to be busy with work 24/7. So it's unrealistic for you to expect him to be able to make time for you whenever you feel the need for some company.

But the other part of you feels lonely. Coming home everyday to the sight of an empty apartment without Jihoon isn't exactly the most uplifting sight to see. And even when Jihoon on the rare occasion, does come home, all you are able to see is his passed out figure before he leaves in the morning while you still sleep.

All you want is Jihoon's love and affection, why is that so hard?

You receive your answer to that very question in the way Jihoon sits in a distracted silence when he hears your question. His eyes looking at his computer in a daze, too busy thinking up of ideas for new songs to produce rather than looking at the way you're about to burst into tears.

"Fine. If you can't even give me one second of your time and focus I'm going to leave," you yell angrily as more tears spring into your eyes. You quickly stand up from your position on Jihoon's couch and exit his studio, slamming the door behind you.

"WAI-" Jihoon starts to shout, finally finding his voice. His eyes widen while his hand is outstretched toward the direction of his door as if it's going to make you come back.

But it's too late.

You're gone.

Jihoon knows he fucked up.

More than that actually.

He knows that it's his fault your relationship with him feels so one-sided. He has a habit of overworking himself. Oftentimes minutes in the studio turning into hours before turning into days of being cooped up producing songs, causing him to neglect the very people he wants to spend all his time with.

Jihoon wishes he could tell you how much he loves you, that he's not trying to neglect you on purpose. He just sometimes gets caught up in his work and doesn't realize when it's time to take a break. He wishes he could tell you that he misses you as much as you miss him, even though he doesn't show it.

But now he has no idea what he could possibly do to solve the predicament he's in. Jihoon could talk with you, but he knows he's not the best with confrontation. Jihoon could give you a few days of space, but he knows that it's probably not the best choice since the whole reason you got mad was because Jihoon wasn't around you enough.

So, Jihoon turns to what he's best at doing. What he does when he doesn't have a clue on what to do.

Songwriting.

Sometimes he'll write songs for his members, comforting them through his lyrics. Other times he'll write songs for Carats, wanting to share with them some encouraging and happy tunes.

But this time, he's writing a song for you.

Jihoon knows that writing a song for you won't make you forgive him instantly, but the most he can do is try to make things better a little bit at a time.

It's 3 in the morning when you hear a knock at your front door. As the rain falls softly on your window, the only question that on your mind is, who the heck is outside your house at such an ungodly hour?

Feet shuffling along the cold floor, you sleepily walk over to your door and open it. Your sleepy eyes are still trying to make sense of the situation when Jihoon stands outside your apartment door.

In front of you stands a drenched Jihoon with puffy red eyes carrying his signature black backpack that is absolutely ginormous on him.

"Jihoon? What are you doing here?"

Mumbling something incoherently, you watch, still half-awake, as Jihoon slowly walks up to you and gently wraps his arms around you.

As you feel the wetness from Jihoon's shirt begin to seep into your own shirt, you try to softly push Jihoon away. But that only makes Jihoon hug you tighter. "Don't go...,"you hear him mumble as he presses his face into the crook of your neck, and that's when you realize that Jihoon is crying.

You're torn.

Seeing your boyfriend cry is a rare occurence and as much as you want to hug him tightly and kiss away all his tears, you want to run away because how can he come back to your apartment as if nothing had happened in these past few months.

"I'm sorry," Jihoon says, his voice cracking and mouth quivering, as he cries, letting his tears drop messily into the fabric of your shirt.

Taking Jihoon's face in your hands, you quietly rub away his tears which only makes him cry harder. Leaning into your touch, he takes hold of your wrist and gently rubs it. "I-I'm really sorry. You don't deserve a terrible boyfriend like me."

"No, don't say that. You know what, how about I get you a towel so that you can dry yourself off and then we can talk more, okay?

"Okay"

By the time you return from the bathroom, towel in hand, Jihoon is sitting on the couch and pulling his computer out of his bag. "oh...are you going to be working more?"

He can hear the disappointment in your voice when you ask the question, you're so used to him working all the time that you're not even angry ... you're just disappointed. Jihoon feels a wave of guilt wash over him as he realizes that all the things you said to him before were true, he was just too busy to realize it.

"Ah, no. I have something to show you," Jihoon says with a tired smile as he pats the seat on the couch beside him, inviting you to sit.

Hesitant, you take a seat next to your boyfriend and look at his computer screen where you can see him open a file. You then watch as Jihoon pulls out a pair of earphones and plugs them into the computer.

Putting the earbuds into your ears, Jihoon presses play as his eyes shake, nervously watching your face for any kind of reaction.

The second the melody of the song plays into your ears, you feel like crying out of disbelief. "You made a song for me?" you ask, suprise etched all over your face, as you look towards Jihoon's direction.

Nodding with a small but nervous smile, Jihoon then motions for you to continue listening.

And it's when you reach the part of the song where you can hear the lyrics sung by the sweet honey voice of your boyfriend, when you begin to cry.

Just likе a pouring meteor shower Please be the light in the dark sky I can do everything for you For you I just want to give you everything And that makes me feel small, a fool who only accepts It suddenly makes me hate myself And makes me feel sorrier towards you

"Oh- Jihoon-," you start to say with tears in your eyes as you close the gap between you and Jihoon and give him a tight hug, your face pressed against his chest. "This is beautiful," you continue on to say sincerely.

Blushing, Jihoon quietly mutters with a nervous laugh, "you haven't even finished the song, listen to what i'm trying to say."

Following Jihoon's instructions, you lean on him and quickly refocus your attention back on the song.

Though it was hard writing my feelings down And all I have is this song and these lyrics For you, for you, for you, for you I sing this song for you tonight So I can get closer to your love

My love only amounts to this But my feelings will never change, for you baby Even if my love only amounts to this I'll be your umbrella in the rain I'll protect you on all your days

By the time you finish listening to Jihoon's song for you, you're in shambles. "fuck- Jihoon, I love you so much you know? I'm still mad at you but I still love you so much," you say as tears roll down your cheeks. Pressing your forehead against Jihoon's, you lean in to give him a chaste kiss on the lips.

Jihoon freezes for a moment before immediately tugging you closer to his body and reciprocating your kiss. "I don't deserve someone as precious as you,"he whispers before devouring your lips into another kiss.

When both you and Jihoon finally break away from each other to get some oxygen into your lungs, Jihoon gently takes your hands into his own. "I-I'm really sorry though. I was a terrible boyfriend these past few months, but I'm going to work on trying to improve myself. Even though I'll probably be busy with producing songs, i'll try to make time for you."

You let out a relived smile when you hear Jihoon's sincere words. "Okay, and I understand if you need time for other things too."

Jihoon gives you a small nod and a smile. "And to answer your previous question, of course you're important to me. For fucks sake you're my girlfriend, you're one of the most important people in my life. How can you not be important to me?" Jihoon says while cupping your face before continuing on to say," just because I don't show it, doesn't mean I don't feel it."

"I love you," he finally whispers with a smile as he places a small peck on your lips.

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #woozi x reader #woozi fanfic #woozi fluff #woozi scenarios #woozi imagines #woozi x you #woozi x y/n #jihoon scenarios #jihoon fluff #jihoon imagines #jihoon x reader #jihoon x you

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bowtiepastabitch · 4 months

Text

Deeply Transgender and Vividly Pornographic: a deep dive into what makes a fic queer

This is a response to the wonderful @ineffabildaddy making this post, which it was originally going to just be a reblog to but once I started approaching a thousand words it was a bit unwieldy so we're just going all the way. If second base is reading their fics and third base is actually talking to your mutuals, I have no clue what this is.

Here's the prompt text that started it all:

Alright, well I am nothing if not a scientist (narrator voice: they were, in fact, a humanities major), so I spent several hours of my weekend putting this together because I'm a burnt out academic and this is the enrichment in my enclosure. Readers, this is going to contain experpts of some very spicy stuff, so stop here if you're not interested. Me bringing porn? To your tumblr dash? It's more likely than you think.

All fics and such referenced will be linked at the bottom of the page.

~~~

Heteronormativity and cisnormativity, while unfortunately the dominant norm for mainstream pornography, make little appearance within the fandom writing spaces I myself spend time in. That's not to say I haven't read my fair shair of painfully straight smut in my lifetime, but simply that I have taste and am lucky to be neck deep in a fandom with very little of it. Nonetheless, as a card-carrying queer and writer myself, I consider myself quite familiar with the distinctive traits and patterns of queer and cishet pornographic writing. Beyond merely a focus on non-male pleasure or the subtle presence of queer or trans characters, the characterization of queer fanfiction is distinct and has entirely different mannerisms in dealing with conceptions of the body and pleasure. I'll primarily be citing Ineffabildaddy's work, for the sake of a focused analysis, who I will henceforth be referring to as Sam for the sake of pseudo-academic flow.

There are certain linguistic patterns that tend to distinguish heterosexual and heteronormative depictions of sex from queer ones. For instance, "cunt" is utilized sparingly within heteronormative contexts for its vulgarity and added obscenity, whilst queer writers use it pretty universally and without the same subtext. Throughout his writing, Sam works with this queer-coded vocabulary pretty consistently. In "Strawberry Scripture" (F/M), he describes how "Crowley's cunt... was damn-near swollen" and how Aziraphale has to resist "Bury[ing] his face in it immediately." No cis-het man has ever thought about eating pussy that way, and if you find one I'll eat my fucking hat. Likewise, vocabulary for the phallic tends to veer in the direction of "cock" over anything else. Interestingly, this creates a set of contrasting pairings. Heteronormative slang, from my obvervation, is more likely to use 'dick' and 'pussy', and, especially in conjunction, it creates a very distinctive mouthfeel that separates the two and poses them as opposites. 'Pussy', in particular, has a much more feminized feel when juxtaposed against 'dick', favoring much softer consonants and the english diminutive 'y' ending. 'Cock' and 'cunt', in comparison, have a very similar sound and feeling to them, distancing itself from hetero-cis-normative gender dualism of the language. There is, of course, plenty of nuance to this and the use of a variety of language in subverting cisnormative ideas about the sexed body as well, with phrases like 'boypussy' and 'girldick' being rather essential to the way many trans people describe their own bodies. "Fandom's Pornagraphic Subset," (yes I'm stealing sources from my research paper on monsterfucking, suck my dick) an article published in 2021 by Silja Kukka, describes how the "fleshy, hyperbolic descriptions of sex" that characterize this kind of writing are essential to what she dubs the "[creation of] a new genderqueer place outside of the gender dichotomy"(57). If you read enough smut, you know exactly what this is talking about. For example, in "Despite Knowing Better,"(F/M) we get vivid imagery to describe the way "streaks of her spit oozed from her mouth even as Aziraphale fucked it"(Ch5) and of "her walls quivering and clenching around him."(Ch3) This level of graphic sexual depiction goes beyond what would be considered 'tasteful' or 'sexy' in a heteronormative concept of pornography.

In terms of tropes, let's do a deep dive into "Strawberry Scripture"(F/M) to find what makes it queer beyond it's apparently straight pairing. To preface, this fic involves both foodplay and monsterfucking, but we're only gonna analyze one. The inherent queerness of monsterfucking is actually something I've written an entire academic paper on, so I suppose I'll start there. There's something very queer and often very trans about subverting the standard playbook of sexual acts, and while kink itself can easily be heterosexual, most monsterfucking falls far outside that category no matter what genital configuration those involved have. Monsterfucking tends to reject the phallocentrism of heteronormativity and mainstream kink by subverting the concept of the human body itself, giving inhuman and monstrous qualities to characters usually for sex appeal or general kinky shenanigans. While there's an argument to be made for heteronormativity still being able to creep into certain spaces, that certainly isn't true for this fic. There's something intrinsically transgressive about creating an erogenous zone out of a feature that would largely be considered horror or 'gross' in any other form of media, which is exactly what Sam does here as he describes the "cool, satiny sensation that the plates of her scales against his tip engendered." The scales are not merely called apon for their invocation of the unusual but to give them an eroticism in and of themselves, with Crowley reaching orgasm through their stimulation. We also slide gently into Monsterfucker territory in "Close (well you couldn't get much closer)" (M/M), where an argument could be made that the most trans-coded element isn't even Crowley's T-dick but instead the presence of a magic angel dildo. (sentences I never thought I'd fucking say but here we are.) There's something deeply transgender about the deconstruction of genital purpose in sex that recontextualizes the gendered body's role in pleasure. It falls into the same semiotic revolution and reclaiming of the body as the changes in language used by trans folks to rename and reidentify the literal physicality of the body by ones own standards (ie T-dick).

Another major trademark in departing from heteronormatized porn is the shift in narrative focus away from penetrative sex. That is, even in paragraphs where the main sex event is penetration, it rarely takes up even half the prose. The majority of narration is focused on surrounding or tangential actions: "the flowing movement of ... hips was sedate and wanton and lusciously provocative,"(1) "watching the muscles which resided there tense and relax alternately with pleasure,"(2) "his tongue stole past his teeth and slid over them,"(3) and "he whispered, his voice aching and curling and stretching for her"(4); all excerpts pulled from moments in which penetration is taking place, yet the concentration is anywhere but. Likewise, the act of penetration itself only takes up a small portion of physical sex acts in the grander scheme of Sam's writing. Instead, we as readers are presented with a vast spread of cock-sucking, pussy-eating, fingering, teasing, frottage, kissing, and more. Contrast this with the cis-hetero norm, where penetrative sex is the endgoal, and any other action is shucked aside to play second fiddle as mere foreplay. It's the reason virginity as a concept is directly tied to the mystical hymen and one's experience with penetration; a straight girl can suck dick a thousand times and still consider herself a virgin. As such, in a piece of pornographic writing where I have significant trouble finding lines to pull specifically and exclusively describing penetration (seriously, try it out yourself), the heterosexual influence is negligible. And yes, I'm talking about all of them. I had to restructure an entire argument that focused on comparing lines from different works because it was so difficult to find them.

So, in conclusion, Sam, love, there is not an ounce of heteronormativity in even the "straightest" of your writing. Congratulations.

Links, in order of reference:

Strawberry Scripture (3)

Fandom's Pornographic Subset, article by Silja Kukka and a great read

Despite Knowing Better... (4)

Close (you couldn't be much closer)

Many Different Ways to Eat an Oyster (1)

I'm Beginning to See the Light (2)

Author's notes, and then I promise I'll leave y'all alone: Hi! This started as a short analysis but quickly became a three(?)(maybe more?) hour labor of love analyzing the things I love most about both Sam's writing and the writing in this community as a whole. Please please please ask me questions, I'm an autistic little bitch and I like knowing things. My ask box? Open. Comments? Open. Reblogs? Open. If you've read this far, I fucking love you and I am kissing you on the mouth right now. Don't worry, my gender is just queer so it's gay no matter what. <3<3<3

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #good omens fandom #nerd shit #why do any of you follow me #gomens

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allwaswell16 · 5 months

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A fic rec of One Direction fics that show a healthy relationship dynamic as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave the writers kudos and comments! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis / Harry -

☁️ Of Mates and Men by @bananaheathen

(E, 630k, wedding) In which, Louis and Harry meet as best men for their best friends' wedding... well... sort of. Or, the one where Harry's just moved back from New York and Louis doesn't believe in romance. Or, I guess... the one where Zayn and Liam are getting married.

☁️ Relief Next To Me by dolce_piccante / @haydolce

(E, 333k, fwb) AU. What happens when a baker and a graphic designer meet via a very specific Craigslist post? Fate, friendship, food, and maybe more.

☁️ Have Love, Will Travel by @kingsofeverything

(E, 97k, road trip) Rather than spend the summer working at their desks, Louis and Harry are given the opportunity to crisscross the country together in a tiny camper, filming their adventures for a YouTube series.

☁️ No Control Club (series) by @sadaveniren

(E, 96k, bdsm) Harry, a popular BDSM blogger, writes a negative review about Louis’ club. Louis wants to have a chance to make it up to him.

☁️ My Kind of Rain by @lululawrence

(NR, 30k, musicians) the Tim McGraw/Faith Hill AU where Louis is Tim, Harry is Faith, and just when Louis thinks he is going to get some rest, his entire world turns upside down thanks to the man with curly hair and the voice that seems to sing right to Louis' heart.

☁️ The Sunshine Stays by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(E, 15k, canon) They're enjoying a much more relaxed schedule the second time around, allowing themselves to bask in married life. Until, one day, Louis surprises Harry on vacation, and there are some surprising consequences.

☁️ Let Me Be Your Everlasting Light by Layne Faire / @laynefaire

(M, 11k, Northern Lights) Harry arranges a trip to Norway as a gift for Louis, but little does Louis know Harry is also hoping to make his own dream come true, too.

☁️ I Can't Hear You by kikikryslee / @flamboyantommo

(E, 9k, omegaverse) the one where Harry is self-conscious about his body because it's not the 'typical omega body' and Louis shows him why he loves that.

☁️ There's a Ring in the House by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf

(M, 3k, proposal) Louis knows Harry is going to propose. He's terribly impatient about it.

☁️ Changing Weather (For Worse or For Better) by @haztobegood

(M, 3k, established relationship) Five times it's raining and one time it stops.

☁️ I Choose You by @disgruntledkittenface

(NR, 3k, established relationship) Louis is exhausted during a busy time at work. After a long commute home, the last thing he expects is for Harry to have a surprise for him.

☁️ Gonna Dress You Up In My Love by @fallinglikethis

(T, 3k, humor) Harry decides to take up knitting. He's horrible at it. Louis wears everything anyway.

☁️ The Future's in Our Hands by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(G, 2k, humor) Louis loves a good idea, a good invention. He's always ready to try out the next project. His husband would maybe just like him to wait until morning.

☁️ The Nearness of You by theweightofmywords / @lil0

(M, 2k, mpreg) Harry and Louis' baby is due any moment. Harry just wants pretty toenails, and Louis just wants to help.

☁️ If Wishes Were Dishes by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(T, 2k, living together) Why is Harry doing his dishes? He must be mad at Louis. He must be absolutely livid at the way Louis is living his life as a slob.

☁️ Sugary Sweet by @neondiamond

(G, 1k, kid fic) Harry and Louis’ daughter knows exactly how to get what she wants, Harry is pregnant, and Louis is the best husband ever.

- Rare Pairs -

☁️ a little tenderness by @disgruntledkittenface

(NR, 10k, Niall/Harry) Harry’s never been around an omega in depri as bad off as Niall looks; most of the time, there’s an alpha friend or family member who can help out with scenting and physical contact. Oh.

☁️ two languages, one love by @nouies

(NR, 3k, Louis/Cillian Murphy) The three times Louis speaks to Cillian in Spanish, and the one time he finally gets a response.

☁️ Fine Line by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

(G, 1k, Louis/Nick Grimshaw) Telling his family was always going to be a big deal, but doing it alone was a sacrifice he could make. He never thought they’d fall about laughing.

#ficrec #healthy relationship #1dsource #1dficvillage #ficsfor4am #hltracks #trackinghappily #trackinghome #tracksintheam

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 6 months

Text

Enclosed

When he's far away at sea, Tom finds himself infinitely grateful that you found work at a photography studio.

Author's Note: This fic, two days late? Noooooo.... Also! I've inadvertently made all the Tommy B smuff fics connected, so this can either be read alone or as a sequel to "After the War"

Pairing: Tom Bennett x Reader (2nd person)

Warnings: masturbation (m), lingerie, references to oral sex (f receiving) and p in v sex

This work is a part of my 12 Days of Smuff event! Read the rest here.

My Masterlist

Enclosed

Prompt: Letters & Lingerie

Tom lay in his bunk with a cocky smile on his lips. He cast his eyes around the rest of the room, finding only one or two other sailors, both asleep and far enough away that they wouldn’t be able to hear him.

This ritual was well worth skipping his mid-day meal.

He weighed the envelopes in his hands for a moment. It felt heavier than it usually did – that boded well for him. After taking a moment to inhale the perfume you had lovingly sprayed on the envelope, Tom dug into your letter.

Tom, my strapping husband,

You said in your last letter that your life in His Majesty’s Nave was ‘fucking boring.’ Shall I tell you how exciting my life back home is?

My uncle has changed the studio’s opening to eleven in the morning so he can get some sleep after staying up all night as an air raid warden. Which means I must find a way to fill that time, assuming I am not also sleeping as I often do after spending a night crammed into a shelter with every screaming and crying child in the whole goddamn neighborhood.

But when I am not sleeping, I often find myself doing the chores that Mum no longer has the energy to do. I swear, if I didn’t do the shopping and cooking, we’d all be eating nothing but bread. Since dad left, she just hasn’t been the same. I think him leaving again reminds her of the last war. He went missing for seven months, seven! I can’t imagine how awful it must have been for her.

Don’t you ever put me through that, Tom Bennett. Not even for a week. I swear I’d come to France myself to drag you back here by your ear.

Now that’s out of the way, I do have something somewhat exciting to tell you. My uncle’s been letting me use the camera a lot more than before he signed up to be a warden. I even got to do a family’s christening portrait all on my own! He wants me to be able to handle the studio on my own, should he ever get called up (not that we’re even slightly concerned about that, considering his age). Or – oh no. That’s not really why he’s doing it, is it? He wants me to be able to run it in case one day he doesn’t come back after the sirens go off, doesn’t he? I’m going to try not to think about that.

I brought it up because he’s allowed me to start using the portable camera rather than the big one in the studio. This way, I won’t always have to be nervous that he will walk in on me when I take pictures for you.

Speaking of, I think you’ll like what I enclosed today. I borrowed Mum’s, just as you asked.

Your adoring wife,

Tom stared at those two wonderful words. Husband. Wife.

He wished he’d been able to give you the ceremony you deserved. Not simply standing in the register office with all your parents looking on with half-hearted smiles before being rushed out almost immediately so the next couple could come in. You deserved so much more than that, roses and a band and a grand hall and all that shit. Once he was home, for good, he’d give it to you. All of it. Most of all, a big honeymoon. Not the one night in a shabby local hotel your parents, your uncle, and even his sister Lois had helped pitch in to get you. Only for him to have to leave again the next day.

The fact that he was leaving you as his wife instead of just as his best girl made it somehow so much harder.

But this helped.

He started by writing his reply to the actual content of your letter. If he started with the pictures, he knew he wouldn’t give a shit about whatever you’d written by the end.

My sweet darling wife,

I am so very sorry that you have things to do all day. Whenever I feel bad about sitting at the prow and staring at the endless ocean, I will remind myself that you are enduring such tortures as shopping and taking undoubtedly lovely family portraits. It will remind me that I should be eternally grateful that the king himself has sent me on the world’s most boring cruise.

Joking aside, I am very sorry you’re stressed. Give your mum my love and tell your uncle that I’m counting on him to look after you while I’m gone, and thank him for his good work (with the warden thing, not the photography). Please take care of yourself. I know you’re willing to stretch yourself thin for the people you love, but I love you too, and I’ll be pissed if I come home to a wife too exhausted to even fuck me.

I actually might not be bored for a few days. They’re sending us to do a job, even if I will be stuck in a rowboat for a day, maybe more. Ah well, at least I won’t be the one rowing, at least.

I’m very happy about you getting more responsibility at the studio. Of course, most of that is for selfish reasons, but I’m still proud of you, love. Can’t wait to see what you’ve enclosed. Oh and before I forget, I’d like to request something… red in your next letter.

Your proud husband,

Tom Bennett

He never wrote as much as you did, but he knew you didn’t mind. You didn’t want any details about the horrible, upsetting things he’d seen, it would only worry you too much. Besides, you knew what he really loved about your letters.

After taking another deep breath, Tom set the paper aside and finally allowed himself to look at your pictures.

“Oh, you gorgeous, gorgeous girl…”

The pearl necklace you wore was a little off-center, but Tom hardly noticed it. He was solely focused on what you were wearing—a full corset, in some kind of shiny, light-colored fabric. The top of it only held half of your perfect tits inside, allowing him to admire their smooth curves. What he wouldn’t give to hold them in his hands. Once he got home, he’d do just that for an hour at least.

Over your delightfully cinched waist, you’d worn a sheer petticoat with ruffles at the bottom – exactly like one you might have worn under your wedding dress, if you’d been able to wear one. He’d get you that, too. Even if only to go to your uncle’s studio to take pictures. Tom wouldn’t need to rent a morning coat, as he’d just wear his uniform, so he could spend extra getting you the perfect dress.

Maybe you could even redo the wedding night.

Tom surveyed the room again before lying back and sliding his hand below his waistband. He’d done this so many times that now, he got hard the instant he picked up the envelope, so he was still relatively proud of his restraint, and was sure you would be, too.

He started slowly, imagining slipping the petticoat off you. Imagine how you’d shiver as his finger ever so slightly brushed your skin. The sounds you’d make – sighs and little whimpers. He loved those little whimpers so much.

He let out his own soft sigh as he began to move his hand faster. Once the petticoat was down, he’d kneel in front of you and make quick work of your shoes, then take his sweet time unbuckling and lowering your stocking.

God, how he missed those legs, shapely and soft. He loved touching them, kissing them, laying between them. His hips kicked up as he imagined himself kissing his way up them when he got home, all the way up to that delightful place where your knickers dug into the little dip between your leg and your hips.

It was hard to hold back his moan at the thought.

He’d lower your knickers first, he decided. So he could bury himself in you until he was satisfied. Yours was a taste he craved as badly as he did for decent cigarettes. He sometimes woke from dreams of devouring you, thinking he could still taste you on his tongue.

Only when your legs were shaking would he stand, prowling behind you with his hands on your waist. He’d kiss your neck as he untied your corset. Or unhooked? He didn’t know, but he hoped it was untie – it was sexier.

The pearls would stay on the whole time as he kissed you, touched you, fucked you. He’d put them between your teeth to help you soften your cries and moans, then watch them fall back on your chest when you came. You always came with your mouth wide open as you screamed his name.

That memory of your voice and the way your nails would dig into his skin is what drove him over the edge, spilling himself into his hand.

Tom lay there, reliving his imaginings, until a bell rang, signaling it was time to get in the rowboats. He made sure to wipe his hand on the mattress of one of the rich cunts who mocked him and the other working-class boys before leaving, his own letter in hand.

He stopped by the room where they kept their post on his way to the rowboats, quickly folding his paper to stuff it into an envelope. A smile crept over his features as he addressed it to ‘Mrs. Tom Bennett,’ before filling out the rest. He was glad that you were living in your parent’s house, but he couldn’t wait until he could get a place just for the two of you.

Lastly, he wrote the date in the corner of the envelope, as you always liked to know when he received yours, so you could be sure to include all the relevant gossip he’d missed.

26 May, 1940

#tom bennett #tom bennett x reader #tom bennett fic #tom bennett fanfic #tom bennet fanfiction #tom bennet smut #tom bennett imagine #tom bennett x you #world on fire #ewan mitchell #12 days of smuff

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andypantsx3 · 13 days

Note

do you have any tips or advice for being more confident about your writing / avoiding the comparison trap on here? /gen

Hello my love!! Oh my gosh, I have a zillion and one thoughts on this subject. Please excuse how disorganized this is but I am so happy to word vom at you lmao.

I think to start with, it depends on what you're comparing: whether it's the work itself or the metrics surrounding it! I will start with the work itself, and move on to talking about metrics if that's cool.

Your Story

In terms of the quality of your work, there are a couple key things to remember!! Firstly, think it's easy to feel like so many tropes and story lines have already been done, why would anyone want to read mine? But you can circumvent this quite intentionally in your writing by thinking about what new thing you can bring to that trope or story line. And make no mistake, there is always something new, whether it's a plot twist, a unique motivator, a different character's perspective, etc.

For example, I've read and loved several merman Shouto fics, and I also wanted to write a merman Shouto fic. In the development of something in the water, I sat down and thought about what things I'd read about merman Shouto before, and how could I add to that, outside of rehashing what I'd already read. I discovered I wanted to expand on mating rituals, spend some time on the cultural differences a human and merman would inevitably have, and linger in the feeling of a tropical island because at the time of the fic's conception it was like, the dead of my winter LOL. And I do think that something in the water has turned out pretty distinct for that effort; as far as I am aware no one has written merman Shouto being wheeled into a tropical bungalow in a wheelbarrow to watch The Little Mermaid lol.

So you can always bring something new to the table! And it will make your work feel standout to you, as well, as you will be very aware of all the things you did that were unique!! You will not feel like you're just rehashing something that has already been done, you will feel like you're adding!

Also in terms of quality, I think it's helpful to look at fic writing like a growth opportunity rather than a permanent, established skill set. The "quality" of your style is not fixed, it something you actively develop by reading, digging into other people's styles, seeing how they make their writing work, and trying out some of those elements for yourself. Maybe someone has a really rich descriptive style that you find beautiful, maybe someone writes dark psychological fics that thrill you; if you spend time looking at the words they are using and how they use them, you can replicate those techniques in your own writing. You can quite literally make your own writing look more like the writing you admire by reverse engineering authors' techniques.

Conversely, writing as a growth opportunity mean you do not have to be perfect. The process of writing is the process of figuring out what works, mechanically. It's not a reflection on you at all. You don't have to write anything "good," you can publish something you had fun with, see what people react positively to in it, and turn around and take those elements forward in your next story, while abandoning the things people maybe did not love or had questions on. And rinse and repeat over and over until you do end up with something you'd term "quality."

To me at least, that thought is a huge relief. Because I can just have fun, let people say what they say, and do something different in my next story if needs must. It's like any skill set, I think. It takes time to hone but no one would call, like, Van Gogh untalented because he once started with rough and heavy pencil sketches, right?

It's the knowledge that I'm building up my future self's skill set that gives me confidence to publish, even if I'm not quite where I want to be currently! And I really hope this helps you the way it does me; the knowledge that you can do anything, write like anyone, but that it's all part of an overarching process to learn to enjoy writing like you!

Which brings me to:

The Metrics

I am just going to say flat out that you should try to ignore metrics as best you can. In my experience, metrics are absolutely no indicator of a work's quality. Some of the work I am proudest of is what anyone would consider a "flop" by note count, whereas I think some of my most trite & banal works would be considered by some metric quite "popular." And I think that way about some of my favorite fics too, one of my absolute fave fics of all time only recently broke 100 kudos on ao3 after being up for years!!

I especially think this is true on tumblr, where a work's packaging and digestibility seem to be the key elements in gaining notes (ao3 does not allow the same level of customization). Fics with elaborate headers, cute & small fonts (I am guilty of loving these), and eye-catching graphics all naturally draw attention more easily in the sea of other fics, so it makes sense why more people would tend to look at those, and subsequently like or reblog them. I also think bullet-pointed headcanons or single/short paragraph works tend to skyrocket in notes here because they're quick and easy; and that makes sense too, right? If it's easier to read of course it's likelier to be read more!

But those things mean absolutely nothing about the quality of the work within. And you can take reassurance from the fact that you too can replicate those elements if note count is what you are truly after here! You can make a video header with any of the premades on Canva! You can try different font arrangements or cool graphics. You can even write a paragraph and tag it with a bunch of different characters for maximum exposure. There is no reason to get jealous, I think, if you can do it too!!

I also think you have to be conscious of different factors at play with authors. Some authors have been around since the inception of the fandom you're in, and naturally will have had more visibility for longer than you, but that also says nothing about the quality of their work. I've been around in the BNHA fandom for four years, and by a mixture of luck and timing ended up getting to publish a lot of my work during the pandemic when more people than ever were getting into BNHA. But does that make me better than some of the newer authors joining the fandom just now? HELL no lol, if anything maybe I could be getting complacent!

And this goes for the size of fandoms and the popularity of certain characters as well!! A Shouto fic is not going to do as well as a Bakugou fic because Bakugou has like, three times the stans. A Shinsou fic is not going to do as well as a Shouto fic because Shouto has like, five times the stans lol. And a Kaiju no. 8 fic is not going to do as well as a JJK fic because the fandom size (and therefore potential audience pool) has a significant discrepancy! Don't gauge your fic's success against someone else's in a different fandom or for a different character (or honestly even at a different point in the source material's storyline because sometimes a character has a moment where they are most popular but that drops off - think BNHA Hawks in 2020/2021 vs now lol).

There is a huge variety of external factors at play that determine your exposure and audience, but absolutely none of those can ever say anything about the quality of your work. So I hope you can try to distance yourself from the need to compare your metrics to anyone else's, because quite frankly they do not mean shit.

TLDR, think the best way to overcome the comparison trap is to write a story you love and feel is unique, something you are proud of. Because no one is ever going to tell a story quite how you would, and therefore no one can ever be compared. & I hope this was helpful and addressed whatever specific area of concern you have!! But let me know if not and I'm happy to discuss more!!

#ask andie

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hexenmond · 6 days

Text

dividers in fanfiction: experimenting with screen readers

So I wrote up this tutorial on pretty AND accessible dividers for fanfiction (focusing on AO3, but this goes for every piece of text on the internet that has a divider somewhere). I confidently proclaimed that using an hr element instead of some random characters is the better way to do it, to accommodate screen reader users – but I had never actually tried it for myself.

I wanted to remedy that and took some time to experiment with a screen reader (Orca, because that was easiest for me to get my hands on). Setting that up was actually a bit of a hassle, so I captured the audio output to post it here, and you can hear for yourself what I'm talking about without having to bother with technology and then you can make up your mind about how you want to handle dividers in your own works.

I picked three pieces of fanfiction on AO3 that I knew off the top of my head had characters as dividers in them (because I love them! so much!!), selected a bit of text with the divider in the middle, and had Orca read it out to me. Here are the results:

Example #1: simple dreams of comfort by softestpunk

I tried this one first, and it confirmed my guess: the screen reader simply reads out the characters as it can't tell what they're supposed to mean.

Example #2: Pretending! Unless… by Aria_Lerendeair

This was up next, same thing in principle. Here I also found out that empty paragraphs are a little bit unwieldy if I wanted Orca to read the selected text. And also I was starting to get used to the voice by now.

Example #3: Tower and Rose by Moorishflower

Same thing, Orca reads "plusplusplus". As a bonus I discovered what happens when there is a full stop missing (did you catch it?). And this was also when I realised that I really could get used to that objectively awful reading voice. Like, if my other options were more tiring, or I had none? I'd probably try different readers, and I'd spend a lot of time tweaking the settings (there are SO MANY SETTINGS), and then I'd enjoy my favourite fics anyway.

And how does an actual hr divider get read?

Orca by default reads it as "separator". Which is not all that great either in my opinion, BUT I could teach it to just read it as a three second pause. Or make it say "skip" or whatever I like. That would be fairly easy to do, but teaching it how to read every random string of characters – not so much.

So, bottom line? It's less problematic than I thought. Sure, "asteriskasteriskasterisk" in the middle of a story doesn't sound nice. But I could get used to that meaning "separator". Brains are flexible like that. It does increase cognitive load a little, but not that badly I think. (Cognitive load is useful a concept, I'll write more about that soon.)

If you have published on AO3 and you'd like to convert to hr elements in your works (those can also be styled to look very nice!), I wrote a step by step tutorial on how to safely and easily replace the random characters with hr elements. If you use it, let me know how it worked for you! Constructive criticism very welcome 🙃

Oh and: I actually made a cool tool that lets you push sliders around instead of fiddling with code! Go ahead and design some lovely dividers for yourself. No CSS skills required, just copypaste the resulting code into your work skin!

@softest-punk, @aria-lerendeair, @moorishflower:

I hope this does not make you feel put on the spot (not at all my intention), but maybe rather a little flattered as I really did know those three fics sufficiently well to remember they had different strings of text as dividers. It's not quite the same as someone making fanart but… right now I'm just loads better at coding than at drawing. So, do with this possibly newfound knowledge as you will! And also whenever you will, I imagine you've all JUST come out the other end of Dreamling Week, phew… I am writing this with much love for you and your fics 🥰🥰🥰

#fanfiction meta #accessibility #screen readers #how to ao3 #uuuhh also #reading recommendations #these three dreamling fics are all fabulous!#for writers #AO3 formatting manual #ao3 formatting #witch moon ramblings #reblogs appreciated #I'm just trying to raise some awareness here #I would LOVE to hear from actual screen reader users on this!

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fuxuannie · 1 year

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* pairings : orpheus de ross x gender neutral reader

* prompt : a novelist is left to write about his feelings for the person who he loves dearly, surely he couldn't struggle doing that, right? (wrong.)

* authors note : i love orphy sososos much <3 first fic,, reqs r open ♡.

ORPHEUS was a man who could express himself better with a pen and paper rather than use his own words. He was more than capable of doing so, but some things tend to leave him tongue tied. And there was someone that he wanted to have them untie it for him.

You were someone who shared unconditional kindnes to Orpheus, at the time, he really didn't think much of it. He appreciated your kind gestures, but never reciprocated. It was until one day, you had written him a good luck note, and given it to him before his games would start within the day.

It wasn't much, but the little gesture left an impact. The next day, he had approached you with a small smile and a letter in hand, an expression that you didn't often see from him. Nevertheless, you smile and give your due thank you.

One letter turned to two, two into three and three to a box-full of little notes and letters that the two of you were exchanging in the span of a few months.

Orpheus had grown fond of you in that time, he'd never admit it, but he'd often miss you dearly, and would read the letters he collected in your voice while you're gone. and those of the manor knew it.

"Confess to them already!" Suggested Emily,

"Man up and tell them before someone else does." said Naib,

"Just take your time and confess when you're ready." Patricia sighed.

None of those ideas he was a fan of, mostly because it involved actually telling you how he felt. Which in truth, he didn't want to do, nor was it any of their business to be snooping on his love life.

But despite believing it was for the best to stay friends, his evergrowing feelings were getting harder to control, as the simple brush against your fingertips made him ever so quietly flustered.

snap snap.

The sound of fingers snapping caught his attention.

"Orpheus?" Alice, his dear friend called out. "You're usually not so lost in thought, do you have something in mind?" She asked, snapping Orpheus back into reality as he now recalled he agreed to meet her for tea. So currently, they were in Alice's room. She sat on her chair, while Orpheus sat on her bed across to her.

"Well, it's more.. someone." He replies, clearing his throat as Alice couldn't help but smile. "Oh? Have you found someone you're interested in?" She teased, but Orpheus remained quiet. His silence speaking much louder than the words he would never admit.

"You have?!"

"You of all people, should have been the last one to know."

Alice was immediately overjoyed, "I thought you would die alone and sad! Oh my gosh, who is it?!" she questioned eagerly. "One, rude. Two.. its (name)." He admitted honestly, not bothering to hide his feelings or anything of the sort.

Alice's eyes practically lit up. "(name)!? I knew it! You two have been spending an awful lot of time together, and the way you couldn't help but cover your mouth after speaking to them was such an obvious sign! You do not simply like them, you are inlove with them!" She accused him of his love crimes, and admittedly, he pleaded guilty. Hanging his head down low as he hid his red cheeks.

"Yes, I may or may not be inlove with them. But I.. I don't know exactly how to tell them. Actually, I'm not even sure if i want to" He puts his cup of tea on her desk. Almost mumbling that entire ramble as Alice puts her index over her lips, as if she was in thought.

"How about you write a letter? You seem to be good at it, and it'll be sweet! Sure, theres a difference using your voice in a confession compared to a letter, but at least they'll be able to keep your words and preserve it forever. It's almost like that the paper is a promise to them! As long as those words are written by you, for however long they last, you promise to stay true to the words you wrote." She suggests with a snap of a finger and a small smile.

Though the idea sounded really corny, Orpheus couldn't deny that it would've been easier. He was always better on paper than in person, and he couldn't deny that he could write a novel long confession for you. Cause thats how you made him feel, with a simple gesture of kindness, you had even the most stoic and calm man stumbling over his words. So surely, it wouldn't be the hardest thing to do.

If only he knew how badly he'd eat those words later. Cue to the fact it's 11pm, Orpheus' usually tidy and organized hair turned to a mess as he pushes it back for the 10th time. Crumpling the 16th paper and dumping it in the trash, usually Orpheus wouldn't mind a Writers Block, but the fact he asked you to meet him in the Dining Room tomorrow made him really stressed.

"Maybe I should call it off.." But even before he could finish that thought, he could already hear Alice's nonestop scolding about being afraid of his own feelings. But maybe he was, maybe he was afraid of his own feelings, very specifically the fear of losing you because of it. He's read it a thousand times in several novels, the guy confesses to the person they love and boom. They lose them. He didn't want that to happen, especially not with you.

However, Orpheus didn't want to be a man filled with regret. So he emptied his mind, grabbed a pen and he focused on one of the very few things that mattered in his life. You.

It's 6AM, the manor was playing classical music on it's exact cue. You sat in one of the Dining Room chairs, humming to yourself while waiting for Orpheus to arrive. While the man himself was having Alice tell him for the 100th time that his hair looked fine, but put his pants on backwards.

"(name)?" He calls out for you from behind, a hand on your seat as you turn around and smile. "Orpheus, good morning." You greet him as usual, his gaze on you is so soft. So warm and welcoming, he pulls the chair to your side and turns it so it can face you properly. "So, I wanted to tell you something." He began, trying to maintan eye contact with you as he avoided the urge to look away.

"(name), for the longest time, I-"

"I like you too, Orpheus."

He's not allowed to get another second in, and you look at him with the most serious expression on your face. "I like you." You repeated. His entire composure that he tried to build up all night melted. You smile a little at his reaction, watching him scramble to cover his mouth as a tint of red glows on his face.

You gently take his hand away from your face, and hold it in your own. "I'm sorry if I ruined the moment." You apologize, squeezing his hand as he's now left to show his entire world his very flustered expression. "No uh, actually I'm glad you did. I spent 5 hours trying to uh.. plan a confession and.. was left thinking of you and nothing else that I forgot to write something." He confessed, laughing to himself as his gaze was originally you and his hand intertwined together, but was pleasantly surprised to see you slightly blush.

"You.. were thinking of me?" You asked, "The question should be, when do I not think about you?" He answered.

There was a comforting silence, before Orpheus lifted your hand up to plant a kiss on your knuckles. Just incase that the lips was something you weren't ready for yet.

"Actually, I think that the question should be.. What now?" He said softly, and you quite literally pull him into a hug. "Take one step at a time. We'll figure things out together, right?"

He smiles, returning the embrace. "Right." He pulls away for a moment, looking you in the eyes and carressing your cheek before you gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Hah.. Thank you. For everything."

Maybe confessing wasn't such a bad idea after all.

#✹ ִֶָ ꐑꐑ entos paw prints #identity v x reader #identity v x you #idv x reader #idv x you #orpheus idv x reader #orpheus x reader #orpheus de ross x reader

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hellfiremunsonn · 1 year

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Emetophobia. Steve Harrington x Reader

Emetophobia.

I DO NOT ALLOW MY WRITING TO BE REPUBLISHED ANYWHERE OTHER THAN MY OWN BLOG WITHOUT MY CONSENT

Emetophobia: “The extreme fear of vomiting”

summary: Your monthly movie night doesn’t go to plan when Robin ends up sick in the bathroom, leaving Steve to see how badly your phobia can cause you to panic.

(This fic has no smut. Younger audiences are able to read this without any explicit content. but I will still be marking and labeling my writing as 18+)

18 + IF YOU ARE NOT 18 OR OLDER DO NOT READ OR INTERACT WITH MY WRITING. IT IS NOT INTENDED FOR MINORS. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME.

WARNINGS: fem! reader, talk of emetophobia, coping mechanisms for it, mentions of panic attack/anxiety attack, descriptions of said panic attack/ anxiety attack. Mentions of Robin throwing up, but no descriptive detail of the act itself.

word count: 2531

AN: HI HELLO. So this is a very self indulgent fic I've written, because I myself have emetophobia. It’s a very debilitating phobia, and it’s hard for people to understand it. I know the way I react to it, and certain situations pertaining it arent rational, and I know my thoughts about it aren’t rational, but it can’t control it. It’s truly the only time that germs will bother me. I go on full panicked cleaning sprees while sobbing and having a full meltdown. It’s not fun, so I thought I’d write something for me, and so that maybe some of you could learn, and hopefully understand it.

It's about eight thirty when the gang arrives at Steves for your monthly movie night. With everyone getting older, and relationships becoming more serious, your group of friends don't get the chance to all hang out together as often as you once did. So you all decided on a monthly movie night, usually held at Steves, but each person or couple picked a different batch of movies to watch each time.

The winter weather told you not everyone would make it today, cars a little too old, and noses a bit too runny, but it was the fact that all of you tried and most of the time managed to gather for these nights. Never disappointed when someone couldn't make it, or you had to postpone it to a different week.

Almost everyone made it, Robin and Eddie both sick with a cold so they decided to stay home which you were extra grateful for. Although it wasn't the flu, and the cold was a sickness you could rationalize and manage, it still didn't dissolve the deep rooted phobia you desperately tried to hide, chalking it off as just anxiety to your friends, giving you an easy excuse to avoid certain situations like parties or bars.

It made you feel so stupid for being terrified of something so normal, so natural even. It was your bodies way of trying to make you feel better, but even the thought of just feeling sick could send you into a spiral. If you were being completely honest, you would rather stab yourself in the thigh and bleed out then throw up, or be near someone who's thrown up.

You were able to keep it hidden from Steve for most of your relationship, until one night where you refused to get into the car when everyone was leaving a bar because you were too nervous one of your more than tipsy friends were going to be sick. To everyone else, you had a panic attack so you and Steve walked home together in the warmth of the summer night. Although it was technically true, you had to explain to Steve that it was something you've dealt with forever, something you try to avoid at all costs if possible. You didn't want Steve to see that part of you, but you knew it helped him understand you a bit more, why you did the things you did.

Your little quirks started to make sense to Steve after you told him, and he was able to start picking up on your nervous habits, giving him a chance to help you navigate situations where your phobia made you anxious. It also explained why it took you forever to sleep over at his house, or to even have him spend the night at yours with you able to stay in your bed the entire night. Most times Steve would have woken up to find you tucked up on the couch fast asleep instead of in the space next to him, and for the longest time he never knew why. Constantly feeling guilty, like he punched you in his sleep or something and you were too shy to tell him.

He let you do everything you needed to do to sleep, when you began sleeping over at his place. If you needed a light on, a fan for noise or if you got too hot at night, he would be more than accommodating. The tv on playing a movie which you'd get up and rewind and play again if you couldn't sleep? Steve would start waking up on instinct to rewind it for you, even if you had eventually fallen asleep. He would let you have a tape playing with the same song on a loop for twelve hours if that's what you needed.

Still, Steve hadn't seen it at its worst, until tonight.

You'd been keeping an eye on max all night the minute she said she felt shittier than usual considering she was 'just pmsing'. Your anxiety instantly heightened for the few hours your friends gathered in the living room. You watched what she ate, and how much of it, doing the same thing with whatever alcohol she decided to sip on. Only when you were about half way through the second movie, when you paused it for everyone to have a bathroom break, did you start to relax, when max excitedly bounced up to you. Sitting next to you with a giggle, wanting to fill you in on her college gossip before everyone was ready for the movie to continue.

You realized that just maybe your anxiety was lying to you, for real this time. So your anxieties faded and you were able to enjoy the rest of your night, falling asleep sometime before the second movie ended, Steves arm wrapped securely around your shoulders.

When you wake up, you're a little more slumped against Steve, still tucked up into his side and you can hear him talking quietly. You make a small groan of protest before lifting yourself from him, rubbing your eyes.

"Sorry babe, did I wake you?" Steve asked, tucking some of your hair behind your ear when you look up at him. You realize everyone is gone except for Lucas who's standing on the other side of the living room, leaning against the wall.

"I don't think so" you said with a yawn, stretching your arms over your head. "Did everyone go home?" you asked.

"Yeah, not too long ago, Lucas is just waiting for max to finish in the bathroom"

You nodded sleepily. Until you heard a cough come from the bathroom down the hall and your body immediately tensed. Steve felt your body stiffen against him and squeezed your shoulder. "S'okay babe"

You nodded again, taking a deep breath and trying to relax again. Maybe it was just a cough, that's possible, but when two more coughs came next with that unmistakeable sound you were quick up on your feet.

"Shit" Lucas muttered, racing towards the bathroom and knocking on the door before opening it, giving you a sliver of a second to catch Max on her knees in front of the toilet, confirming your anxieties, and sending you straight into panic mode. Staring back down at Steve like a deer in headlights, and he was quick to stand next to you, taking your shoulders in his hands and turning your whole body to face him.

"Go upstairs to my room yeah? I'll come get you when it's okay"

Your bottom lip wobbled as you ran up the stairs to Steves room, your feet thumping loudly against them and you didn't hesitate to slam the door behind you.

You start pacing and tried to control your breathing, counting how many steps it takes to cross each side of Steves room, until you don't even realize you're counting. You know you're being dramatic, and that what you feel is selfish, but it doesn't stop your body from going into fight or flight. Your skin feels wrong, and your clothes feel like they're covered in germs, and you strip yourself of them as quickly as you can, leaving you only in your bra and underwear.

"Fuck, shit, shit, shit" You mumble. "Come on, get your shit together"

You don't want Steve to see you like this, it's embarrassing, and if you could keep it hidden from him forever you would.

If feels like every possible germ Max could have been carrying is on you, on your skin, in the air, on every surface of the house. Hugging your arms around yourself you slide your hands up your arms, letting the nails drag across them harshly before digging them into your shoulders, knowing you're leaving half moon dents in your skin, but it's the only thing grounding you while sobs wrack at your chest.

It's been what feels like forever when Steve finally comes up stairs, knocking on the door lightly before entering and closing the door behind him like you two weren't now the only ones in the house.

He's confused at first when he takes in your trembling frame, almost nude in front of him pacing back and forth, and when he sees your face his heart breaks. Your cheeks are wet and splotchy, and he can tell you've been crying the entire time he's left you, and he's a little unsure of what to do.

"They're gone, everything's all good now" he said as reassuring as he could muster his voice to sound.

You shook your head, continuing pacing, your hands clenching and unclenching into tight fists. "N-No" you whimpered. "Max was leaning on me" you shake your hands out in frustration; as if everything you're feeling will leave through them if you shook them hard enough.

"I-I could get sick" you huffed. "God she touched so many things" when you stop pacing and cover your face with your hands, crying into them, Steve knows he can come over to comfort you. He wraps his arms around your shoulders tightly, one hand holding onto the back of your head like a small child while you cried harder into his chest.

You lean back from him, but don't push yourself away. "I want to rip my skin off" you said with a sob. "I'm hot, and it feels like the germs are festering on me" You whine.

"Do you want to shower? I can clean up downstairs?" He asks.

"I wont know if you've cleaned it all properly, I-I need to do it" you say looking at your hands, palms red with how tightly you've had them.

"What if you shower, and you tell me everything I need to do, so I can clean everything the way it needs to be done?" He says softly, taking your face into his hands, his thumbs sliding just under your jaw to push your chin up so he can look at you. You can smell the peach scented soap from the kitchen on his hands and you almost lose it at Steves thoughtfulness. The fact that he had washed his hands before coming back up to see you, getting one step closer to calming your nerves.

"You can follow me around the whole time, you wont have to touch anything" His eyes are searching yours, for anything at this point. New territory being discovered in your relationship and Steve being Steve he wants to fix it.

A new wave of tears blur your eyes and you look down to avoid Steves while a sob escapes you. No one had ever taken the time to learn, to try to understand, to even help you when you got like this. For so long it was something you hid, even to yourself, and now you're standing in front of someone who loves you so endlessly, that he's willing to do whatever it is to make sure that you're okay.

He pulls you back into his chest and you wrap your arms around him tightly, holding his t-shirt in tight fists where they land on his back. "I love you" You mumbled into him.

"What was that?" he said tucking his chin to his chest to look at you.

You leaned back from him once more, a small smile on your lips when you look up at him. "I love you" you repeat.

"I love you too baby" he said with a relieved sigh, thankful for the smile on your face. "Can I do this for you?" he asked.

"Yes please" you said with a huff. "I think that would be very helpful"

"Thank you" he said holding your wet face in his hands, leaning down to place a soft kiss on your lips.

You furrow your eyebrows "What are you thanking me for?"

"For trusting me enough to help you" he said with a shrug, intertwining his fingers with yours while he lead you to the bathroom, starting the shower and bringing fresh towels for when you got out.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're the best boyfriend ever?" you ask, wrapping your arms around his neck, fingers twirling in the hair at its base.

He laughed, leaning forward and bringing his arms behind you to unclip your bra. "Can't say anyone has" He continues to undress you, no heat or tension with his movements, just love.

"Alright" he said kissing the top of your head. "You are now shower ready"

"Can you shower with me?" You ask sweetly.

"Of course" Steve says quickly, impossible to say no to you.

The two of you shower mostly in silence, but it's peaceful. The sound of the water and the way Steve massages the foamy shampoo into your hair has you on the brink of sleep. His hands soft between the wet tendrils on your head, his thumb smoothing down the back of your neck, pressing into the tired muscle gently. Sore from the stiff tension you held while panicking, and you groaned feeling your body finally start to relax. You felt like you were floating, barely hearing Steve when he asked you to turn around so you could rinse the shampoo out.

When your shower is finished, Steve makes sure to dress you in only his clothes, freshly folded in his laundry basket, still waiting to be put away from early in the day.

He sits down on his bed with a notepad in his lap, and a pen at the ready?

"What's that for?" you ask, scrunching as much water as you can out of your hair with one of the towels.

"Give me my list, what do I gotta do"

You blush, feeling a little embarrassed, but still you sit next to him with a sigh. "I'm going to sound crazy okay? And it's going to sound so stupid, because germs don't ever bother me, until it's this" you say waving your hand in the air around you.

"I like a little crazy" he said with a smirk and a shrug. "NUMBER ONE" he says loudly while numbering his paper.

You go on to tell him all the things you do when you do the cleaning yourself. You clean every surface you can think of that the person has touched, or potentially touched. Doorknobs, the doorframes, the faucets in the bathroom, and in the kitchen, any dish they've used. The toilet (obviously) the floor around it, the tank of the toilet, the handle. He writes it all down as quickly as you say it, words tumbling out of your mouth in fear that if you stop you'll overthink it too much and make yourself feel worse about your phobia.

And he does it all, he cleans everything, and maybe a little bit more diligently than you would and it makes your heart swell that he'd do this for you. A Saturday night where the two of you would have been tucked up in his bed, limbs tangled around each other, but instead he's scrubbing every inch of the island in his kitchen without a care in the world. He even goes as far as to disinfect the outside handle of the front door "just incase" All because he's hopelessly, and endlessly in love with you, and you couldn't be more head over heels in love with him.

#hellfiremunsonn #Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington fic #Stranger Things #Stranger Things fic #Steve Harrington Stranger Things #Stranger Things Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington x you #Steve Harrington x (y/n)#Steve Harrington fluff #Stranger Things fluff #tw emetophobia #emetophobia

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asukamood · 4 months

Text

Apology to Deaf Ears (DT Twins)

***

I was literally writing the next chapter of my Cold Front fic when I woke up on the 24th with such a good angst idea for the twins that I broke down first thing in the morning.

(Note: I am not blaming any of the twins for what happened to them, which is not the case for the twins themselves. Do keep in mind that at the time of this story, the twins were both 5 and it is normal for children like them to act immaturely and blame the wrong people, especially seeing the environment they are living in.)

With that said, enjoy your reading!

***

Warnings: Suicide (stabbing), blood, heavy angst for both twins, hints of physical abuse

Synopsis: Nightmare had never understood why the characters in his novels always felt sick at the sight of blood. He was covered in his own blood every day, yet it never made him throw up. Now he understood, he understood too well.

***

If there was someone who Nightmare particularly resented, apart from himself, it was Dream.

He hated the way people loved him so much, what did he even do to deserve all the attention anyway? What did he have that Nightmare lacked?

He hated the way protecting the Tree has fallen on his shoulders alone while Dream was playing around. Why was he allowed to slack off while Nightmare had to do both their jobs alone, as injured as one could be?

He hated how naive the other was, always falling for Nightmare’s stupid lies when he was asked about his injuries. How could he have gotten this hurt by simply falling off a branch? Was Dream just stupid or did he simply not care about Nightmare? The latter would bet the correct supposition was the second explanation.

He hated how mocking the other’s hollow ‘I love you’ sounded. He hated how he had to live in the other’s shadow. He was as good as his brother, hell, maybe he was even better! He just could not understand. Why not him?

But above all, he hated the way he nagged him by spending time with him and showing off how much happier he was than Nightmare, like he was doing currently.

“Get off.” He hissed, pushing Dream away from himself. That day, his brother had been particularly clingy and happy, for some reason determined to annoy him as long as humanly possible.

Seriously, he had even declined to spend time with his friends to annoy him more, how unhinged did he have to be to think of something like that?

The other let out a playful whine of protest but refrained from attempting to hug him again. A detail that Nightmare failed to notice at the time.

“Can we play then? It has been so long since we last played Tag You’re It!” Dream suggested, a wide grin spread across his cheeks as he seemed to reminisce about the old times. It made Nightmare sick.

With gritted teeth, he replied that he was not in the mood to play and would rather read. Dream’s bright smile did not leave his lips at the other’s refusal. If anything, it just got brighter.

Oh, there we go, something he hated and forgot to mention.

The way the other never took anything badly.

Nightmare would kill to be that way.

How foolish.

“Can you read me a story then? Last time we--”

“No.” He cut him off with a glare, making the other blink. At Nightmare’s expression, his smile turned into a worried frown.

“Did I say something wrong? Why do you look so angry?” He tilted his head to the side in confusion, somehow only managing to piss the other off even more.

“Because you’re annoying me.” He replied coldly, picking up the last book he had been reading off the ground. With his eyes fixed on the object, he could no longer see Dream’s expression. Not like it interested him. “Can’t you find someone else to bother?”

“I like spending time with you though.” A pause. “And you know I love--”

“And I hate you.” He flipped the page he was reading, noticing the way the other had stopped talking.

He looked back to him, Dream’s grin welcoming him back to reality.

He hated that lack of reaction too, he just said that he hated him, and he was smiling? He was right after all, Dream really did not care about how he saw him. Why would he? He had all those oh so wonderful friends, why would he care about that loser he called his brother?

If Nightmare had paid more attention, maybe he would have noticed how sad that smile really looked. He would have noticed how it did not reach his eyes.

“What are you still doing here?” He snapped, sending him yet another glare. “Are you going to gawk at me like that for long? I don’t want to see you anymore, just go.”

“... Okay.” He got up, making Nightmare focus back onto his book. He was most likely going to the village anyway, there was no reason for him to see where he was going.

***

A few hours later, Nightmare started to feel bad about what he said.

He had been angry at that moment, but Dream was still his brother, he could not just tell him that he hated him like that. Nightmare looked up at the sky, deducing that it was the afternoon.

Honestly, he found it odd how the villagers had yet to come bother him but for once, he allowed himself to hope that the peace would last a bit more.

He closed the book, putting it into its usual place next to him--

...

Something was under it.

Nightmare raised an eyebrow as he picked it back up, his eyes widening once he recognized Dream’s circlet. Did he forget it when he left? Nightmare shrugged; he will just give it back to him after he apologized.

He would not come back until the evening anyway, which gave him plenty of time to plan what he would say to him.

He let his head rest on the tree, slowly drifting off to sleep.

***

When he woke up, the sight of wrinkling stars in the night sky welcomed him back. He had always loved looking at the stars, it reminded him of the good days without the villagers around.

He turned to his side, expecting to see his younger brother.

He froze when there was no sign of him.

“Dream?” He called out in surprise, standing up and looking around the tree and up the branches. No one.

Nightmare frowned.

That was unusual, no matter how long Dream stayed at the village, he had always come back once the sun had set. He once said that his favorite thing was to come back home after the night began.

Maybe he was still a bit busy? Nightmare sat down against the tree, waiting to see his brother’s silhouette approach the tree.

***

All the lights in the village had gone out by now.

Yet, Dream was still nowhere to be seen.

Nightmare did not want to admit it, but he was worried, very worried. He got up from the tree again and reluctantly dragged his feet to the village. He had no want to step into that place, knowing that if he were caught, he would go through hell and back, but there was only so much he could do.

He let out a long breath as he passed the gate. No scream, that was a good sign.

A man in the tavern’s balcony was sprawled on a table, an alcohol bottle in hand. Seeing no one else around, Nightmare decided to risk talking to him.

He tapped his shoulder and the grown-up groaned as he was shaken awake, looking over to who woke him up. He glared at Nightmare once he recognized him, slurring something about killing him if he did not get out of his sight. Nightmare ignored the threat, instead asking where he had last seen Dream.

Thankfully for the child, the older man was far too wasted to bother swinging at him. So wasted, in fact he was pleasant enough to answer his question.

“How the fuck should I know?” He hiccupped, taking another sip of the beverage. “That brat did not show up today.” He hit the table with his fist, frustrated. “If it was not for him staying with your sorry ass, my other house would have been finished by now.”

Nightmare could feel his heart drop in his stomach, the rest of the man’s complaints getting lost in the wind.

Dream never went to the village?

Ditching the man, the young boy raced to the entrance of the village, his head filled with Dream’s possible whereabouts. He was neither at the tree nor at the village. Besides these two locations, there was the forest and the cliff. But if he was in those areas, why did he go there in the first place?

And more importantly, why was he still not back?

His breathing sped up.

What if he was in danger?

He shook his head, pinching his wrist. He winced but, in the end, he was able to forcefully calm down. Panicking would not help him find Dream.

These two areas were big, so he had better get started now.

The closest area to the village was the forest, he would get started there.

He ran between two trees, looking around every tree and yelling Dream’s name as he did so, hoping the other would eventually answer his calls or show up.

When he was met with no answer, he walked deeper into the forest, desperation now laced with his voice. The forest was quiet, far too quiet to be normal.

Still nothing.

He was running now, yelling his name even louder than he already was. He could feel his vocal cords straining in his throat, but he could not care less then, too focused on the task.

Eventually, as he was starting to lose hope, he finally caught a glimpse of orange behind a tree. The boy heaved out a sigh of relief before being overtaken by anger. If he was right there, why did he not answer his calls?

“Dream!” He shouted as he walked over to the tree, said one’s cape getting closer. “Why did you not come back? Do you know how worried I--”

As he finally walked around the tree, Dream’s lightless eyes and the knife planted in his chest finally came into view.

The next thing Nightmare knew was that he saw himself throw up nearby, trembling as he turned back toward Dream. There was so much blood.

Nightmare had never understood why the characters in his novels always felt sick at the sight of blood. He was covered in his own blood every day, yet it never made him throw up. Now he understood, he understood too well.

“Dream...?” He approached the other, slowly. That... he was still asleep, right? It could not be real. He crouched down next to him, his fingertips brushing his shoulder. He was cold. Why was he so cold?

“Hey, why are you not saying anything?” He shook him. “That’s not funny anymore, come on Dream, let’s go home.”

The other’s head fell awkwardly on his shoulder, a few strands of his hair covering his eyes. Apart from that, no reaction was given to Nightmare’s words or actions.

He shook him again, tears welling up in his eyes. “Stop scaring me! You said you would come back home no matter what! We even promised to never leave each other!”

“We promised!” He repeated, as if to enhance the importance of a promise.

However, he could scream as much as he wanted, there was no bringing back a dead soul.

At last, he finally broke into hysterical sobs as he held onto the corpse of his brother like his life depended on it. “We can play as much as you want, I can read you as many stories as you like! We can hug whenever you want! I won’t push you away anymore, I promise!”

“So please...” His voice broke as he cupped the other’s cold cheek, trying so hard to feel any kind of warmth coming from the other’s skin. “Say something, anything. Don’t leave me alone...”

Silence.

“I...” He hiccupped. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier, I didn’t mean it, I swear! I love you too. Even if I may have been frustrated at you sometimes, you’re still my brother, I could never hate you!”

He buried his face in his neck as he sobbed. “Please don’t make me bury my best friend, I’m sorry for being such a bad brother. I promise to make it up to you just give me a chance, please.”

His pleads were ignored and so were his apologies.

Oh, how cruel the gods were.

In a last attempt to get some sort of reaction out of the other, he brought his hand to his level. From it, a piece of paper fell.

With a shaky hand, he managed to retrieve what Dream was holding in his fist. He opened the ball, revealing an exact replica of a silly drawing of themselves when they were still satisfied with one another in the world.

A messy Tree of Feelings labelled “Home” stood in the background with yellow and black ovals littering the leaves to represent their respective apples. In front of it, two figures with questionable anatomies stood beside each other, holding hands.

One of them was wearing a light blue-sky outfit and a round circlet and the other a purple outfit with a crescent moon engraved on the head garment.

There was only one difference: if the original drawing had both figures smiling from ear to ear, this one had Dream smiling and Nightmare wearing an angry frown.

At that instant, with tears falling down the paper, Nigthmare wanted nothing more than to tear away that angry-looking figure from the smiling one and burn its remains.

#angst #dream sans #utmv dream #dreamtale #nightmare utmv #utmv fanfic #utmv #utmv au #nightmare sans #passive nightmare sans #dreamtale twins #pre apple incident #apple twins

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justabigassnerd · 1 year

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You're Not Alone

Pairing - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x daughter!reader

Word count - 1,906

Warnings - lack of eating, talks of body image, angst, fluff

Summary - when you begin to struggle with eating and your body image, Jake is there to help you every step of the way

A/N - just to preface, this fic is NOT part of the Hangman junior universe and any Hangman x daughter!reader fic that isn't explicitly said to be part of the universe is a nice lil' standalone fic. This was a request that got to queue jump a lil because when I read the request I just had to write it sooner because everyone deserves some comfort and love in the form of fics if they so desire. I will also elaborate that most of the detail for this fic came from my own research (which may not be wholly accurate do feel free to educate me if so) and I am not a professional in any way shape or form on this subject matter. And always remember, y'all are never alone <3

You couldn’t pinpoint where it started. But over time, you started to become self-conscious about the way you looked. You’d open your phone and go on Instagram to see all those models showing off their perfect hourglass figures with their boyfriends on their arms, looking equally as perfect. You’d see your friends posting pictures of themselves and you’d admire how pretty they looked before dragging yourself over to your bathroom mirror and pointing out every imperfection you could find of yourself as tears filled your eyes.

Over time, you started to eat less and would spend a lot of your free time working out to try and shape your body to look more like those models you envied so much. You started to withdraw from your friends, trying to avoid the envy you felt seeing them as they walked around with their shorts and crop tops, able to be proud and confident with their looks.

Unknown to you, your dad had picked up on your new behaviours. He noticed how you opted to wear baggier clothing and how you’d spend more time pushing the food around on your plate rather than eating it. Jake, however, knew he couldn’t outright question you because he knew he ran the risk of you clamming up and closing yourself off even more which was the opposite effect he was going for. He carefully observed you from a distance when you were home. He noticed that you weren’t going to your friend's houses as much anymore. Jake used to joke that you spent more time at your friend’s than you did at your own house. The willingness Jake had for you to come to him in your own time flew out the window after you refused to come down for dinner three nights in a row. Jake was beside himself with worry and he just wanted to get to the root of the problem so he could help you.

“y/n/n could we talk?” Jake asked you the second you walked into the house, wanting to catch you before you hid yourself away from him again.

“Dad I’m a little tired. Could we do this tomorrow?” You ask, shrugging your bag off your shoulder and kicking your shoes off.

“No, sorry kid we need to chat.” Jake says, gesturing for you to follow him into the living room and despite your brain screaming at you to head upstairs, you follow your dad and sit down on the sofa near him, a bit of space separating the two of you.

“I want you to know that what I’m about to say right now isn’t being said out of anger or anything like that. I’m just worried about you and I just want to check in with you. Are you okay? And I’d appreciate the honest truth. It’s just us two.” Jake says softly, his eyes never leaving yours. You searched your dad’s eyes for any anger or disappointment but when you found nothing but worry and love in his gaze, you found yourself tearing up.

“I’m sorry.” You manage to say before your voice becomes too wobbly to speak and the tears begin to flow down your cheeks. Jake was quick to pull you into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he tucks you into his chest. He rubbed a hand up and down your back while blinking back tears of his own.

“Don’t be sorry, sweetheart. You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about.” Jake whispers as he rocks you back and forth gently to help you calm down. Jake continues to whisper quiet words of reassurance until your sobs have slowed to small sniffles. Even after your tears have slowed, Jake doesn’t force you to speak. He lets you remain curled up in his arms until you’re ready. When you finally feel ready to open up to your dad, you carefully pull away from his embrace, wiping at your eyes with your hoodie sleeve. Again, you study your dad’s expression to search for any judgement but he just watches you softly, waiting patiently for you to speak.

“Recently I’ve started to hate the way I look. My body isn’t perfect enough like those people on Instagram. I want to look as nice as my friends because I feel like they’re embarrassed to be seen with me because of how I look.” You admit quietly, tears springing to your eyes again and Jake gently turns you to face him. Once you’re facing him, he removes his hands from your shoulder and cups your head in his hands, wiping the tears away with his thumbs.

“You listen to me carefully sweetheart. There’s no such thing as a perfect body. I know those models on social media flaunt their bodies and make it seem like that’s the only way to be pretty and perfect. The thing is, they’re dead wrong. I know my words probably mean very little to you but I’m going to help you every step of the way with this, okay? Besides, you’re a Seresin it’s practically impossible for you not to be gorgeous.” Jake says, smiling lightly when you giggle softly at his last few words.

“There’s my girl. Tell me what I can do to help.” Jake says softly, wanting to know what he can do to help. He wanted to get the information from you before he even thinks about running off to get advice from someone else.

“I want help starting to eat again but it’s hard. My brain tells me… it tells me not to eat. And if I try to eat I don’t want you to judge me for what I do or don’t eat.” You say quietly, moving your head out of Jake’s hands and moving your gaze down to your hands as you fiddle with your fingers. Jake processes your words quietly before he nods to himself.

“I can do that. Like I said, I’m going to help you as best I can. We’re going to get through this together. You're not alone.” Jake says, smiling at you as you lift your gaze to meet his. Jake then brings you into another hug with you instantly melting in his embrace.

“Do you want to start making dinner with me? I can whip up your favourite. And of course, you don’t have to eat it all, just what you can manage.” Jake then asks, his smile widening when you nod shyly. He gets to his feet, bringing you up with him and leading you into the kitchen so you can start making dinner. Jake wanted you to build up your healthy relationship with food again and he figured the first step would be having you assist with making the meal. When the food was prepped, Jake let you plate up your own food, giving you complete control over how much food you wanted on your plate. He watched as you finished plating up and moved to sit at the table before following suit. He sat opposite you and immediately dug in, glancing up at you occasionally and noticing how you were pushing the food around on his plate.

“You wanna know what happened in training today?” Jake asks suddenly, making you look up at him, confused.

“What happened in training?” You asked after managing a small mouthful of food. Jake then launches into a story about how the Dagger Squad had been training and successfully managed to get tone on Maverick in their training exercise. He made sure to explain every single detail of what was going on. He noticed that as he was talking, you were distracted enough to keep eating without being aware of the fact you were eating. He makes sure to include how the entire team had watched Maverick do his two hundred pushups and how they had counted each individual one themselves to save Hondo a job. When Maverick had completed his pushups, Rooster had poured a bottle of water over Maverick’s head the second he complained that he was too hot. You laughed as you pictured Rooster dumping water all over Maverick. You had been so entranced by your dad’s story that you hadn’t noticed that you’d eaten all the food on your plate until you heard your fork scrape against the empty plate. You looked down in shock before looking back up at your dad who had a proud smile on his face. He gets up from his seat and crosses to you before pulling you into a quick hug.

“I’m so proud of you.” He whispers, running a hand through your hair and leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head.

“You want a little more or are you done?” Jake asks as he pulls away looking down at you.

“I think I’m done.” You say, not feeling like you could eat any more food.

“That’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll just stick the leftovers in the fridge.” Jake grins, packaging up the leftover food and sticking it in the fridge before taking both plates and sets of cutlery so he could put them in the dishwasher. Once Jake has tidied up, he sits down opposite you once more and smiles at you softly.

“You did really well. I know I’ve already said it but I’m so proud of you.” Jake praises, bringing a smile to your face.

“Thank you, dad.” You whisper.

“Can I suggest something? This idea just popped into my head.” Jake then asks, looking over at you, waiting for you to nod before speaking again.

“I think you should delete Instagram off your phone, just until things get a little better. Those models you’re seeing online aren’t going to help you.” Jake suggests, almost expecting you to blow up in his face and accuse him of trying to cut you off from your friends.

“Okay, I’ll do it.” You say quietly, extracting your phone from your pocket and unlocking it. You quickly locate the Instagram app icon and look to your dad briefly for reassurance before deleting the app from your phone.

“It’s gone.” You confirmed, smiling as you glanced over at dad who’s grin matched yours.

“Atta girl.” He says, the two of you sharing a smile before Jake reaches across the table and grabs your hand, a seriousness coming across the room quickly.

“I want you to promise me something. If things get too much, and you feel like I can’t help you anymore, I want you to tell me. I want you to tell me so we can get you the help you need.” Jake asks and you immediately find yourself nodding. You knew it was a big promise but you wanted to get better, and sometimes outside help is what’s needed.

“I promise, dad.” You say, watching as Jake nods lightly, his smile returning.

“I love you, sweetheart.” Jake says quietly, squeezing your hand lightly.

“I love you too dad.” You reply.

You knew the road to recovery would be bumpy, and that there’d be times that would be tougher than others. But you felt a little bit of relief knowing that your dad would be by your side every step of the way, loving and caring for you the way he had been since you were born. And you knew he’d be the best support system you could ever have and you were so grateful for him.

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f1writingbyme · 10 months

Text

The Nights Are Long (But It's Easier Together)

IT'S FINALLY HERE!

My God, this took me forever

My first ever longer work of fiction. It took me months to finish it, but I'm so extremely PROUD of what I created and I hope you will enjoy it!

I want to give a very special shoutout to Mona (@lestappenforever) who has been my ROCK and an absolute ANGEL whilst I was writing. Mona, thank you for listening to my rambling, reading every single thing I sent to you, for your thoughts and input and not to forget, the betaing! I love you so, so, so much, words can't describe how much I appreciate you! ❤️

You can read it here.

Summary: The fire in his apartment is only the beginning of a long list of misfortunes that await Max. Fortunately, he has Charles by his side to help him through it. That is until Charles is the one that gets targeted.

PLEASE NOTE THAT THE CATS DO NOT EXIST IN THIS FIC. I REPEAT: THE CATS DO NOT EXIST! Please don't hate me.

Enjoy the first bit here.

The party is in full swing. Leave it to Lando to plan a well attended party during summer break where normally everybody would disappear to another country to not see any of the other drivers, having seen plenty enough of them during the race season. Charles knows, because normally he would have fucked off to some country where he could lie on the beach and drink cocktails for most of the day, spending time with his brothers and mother, and maybe some other family too, before having to turn back to full concentration again.

But for some reason, most of the drivers were here and Charles realizes he is actually truly enjoying himself. He’s on the couch next to Pierre, listening to some kind of story George is slurring at them, having had just two too many drinks by now. Charles knows he should have stopped him when he gets up to get another refill, leaving both Pierre and him on a cliffhanger, but he isn’t particularly bothered with George’s alcohol intake. He’s a grown man who knows what he’s doing - or at least most of the time. He can deal with his own hangover tomorrow. That is not Charles’ job.

He takes the break from George’s rambling as an opportunity to glance across the room. Every driver he gets along with on the grid is present, along with some friends of Lando he already knows, but the majority of the crowd is unknown to him. The only thing he knows is that some of the female friends present are more interested in all the drivers surrounding them than in their actual friends. If you could even call them friends.

Charles’ attention is drawn to the corner on his right. Max, Daniel, Martin Garrix — Martijn, Charles corrects himself mentally — are stood in a some resemblance of a triangle so that they can all face each other, listening to Martijn telling a story. Charles sees that Daniel is fully invested, eyes wide, a large smile on his face as he nods along. Max, on the other hand, is also listening, but every few minutes or so, he’s distracted by his phone, frowning at the screen, before rejecting the call. He then presses some things on his screen and to Charles it seems like he’s blocking the number. Unfortunately, he has had to do that himself one too many times.

Max’s attention is back to Martijn, taking a big sip of his gin and tonic. A bit of the drink runs down his chin. and Max uses the back of his hand to wipe it away. Charles’ eyes are glued to it, the movement of the big hand wiping away the little drop of the alcoholic drink before it makes its way down his neck. His strong, muscled neck. Charles wishes the drop had made its way down, just so he could–

“Tu regardes,” Pierre’s voice breathes in his ear. (“You’re staring.”)

It startles Charles, spilling half of his own drink over his hand and on his trousers. He feels the blush creep up his face, painting his cheeks a dark shade of red. He rips his eyes away from Max and his group, because they have all turned to face the two men on the couch after hearing Charles’ rather loud gasping and spluttering. The spluttering ends in a coughing fit, and tears gather in Charles’ eyes as he desperately gasps for air.

“He’s fine,” he hears Pierre say as he pats his back.

Through his watery eyes he sees that Pierre is talking to Max, who looks at Charles in concern, but smiles after Pierre’s words and turns back to Martijn, who restarts his story again, not paying attention to a slowly suffocating Charles Leclerc.

“Calamar, tu dois vraiment te contenir,” Pierre says once Charles has caught up with his breathing. (“Calamar, you really need to contain yourself.”)

“Je n'ai rien fait,” Charles wheezes. (“I didn’t do anything.”)

“Oui, continuez à vous le dire,” Pierre snorts and then, when Charles frowns at him, he adds, “Vous étiez pratiquement en train de baver en le regardant.” (“Yeah, keep telling yourself that. You were practically drooling whilst staring at him.”)

“Je n'étais pas.” (“I was not.”)

“Tu l'étais.” (“You so were.”)

“Tais-toi,” Charles mumbles, finishing whatever is left of his drink. (“Shut up.”)

Pierre sighs deeply. He turns to face his friend, bringing his head closer to Charles’ to have a little bit more privacy in a crowded room full of strangers. "Tu n'as pas à prendre de décision maintenant, mais s'il te plaît, Charles, soit tu lui parles, soit tu l'oublies. Arrête de te faire du mal à cause de lui. S'il te plaît." (“You don’t have to make a decision right now, but please, Charles, either talk to him or forget about him. Stop beating yourself up about him. Please.”)

Charles wants to reply to that, he really wants to, but he simply can’t. It’s not as easy as Pierre makes it sound. He can’t just forget about Max, but he also can’t just go and talk to him about the stupid little crush he has on the Dutchman, either. Or, as Pierre likes to say, ‘just tell him you are head-over-heels in love with him’. Charles neither confirms nor denies that he used a bit too much force behind his punch on his best friend’s arm after he said that.

Just as Charles is ready to vocalize the answer he has formed in his head, he’s interrupted by Max’s ringtone yet again that evening. How many calls has he already received, Charles thinks, and he realizes this must have been the sixth time within the last hour he has heard the phone ringing. He expects Max to yet again decline the call and block whoever is calling him, but he sees him frown at his screen before excusing himself to Daniel and Martijn. Charles watches him as he makes his way to the somewhat quieter kitchen area, answering the call. He sees that Max is trying to speak to the person on the other side, but every time he tries to get a word out, he stops again, probably being interrupted by the person on the other end of the phone, gesturing wildly with the hand that isn’t holding the phone, pacing back and forth in the kitchen area.

Curiosity getting the best of him, Charles excuses himself to Pierre under the pretense of getting a refill as he makes his way over to the kitchen where Max is. He knows that Pierre thinks he is finally going to declare his undying love for the Dutchman, judging by the smirk on his face. Charles rolls his eyes. Of course he’ not going to tell Max how he feels. If he ever decides to tell him how he feels, he will definitely pick a much quieter location to do said thing, away from the prying eyes of female strangers and crowded rooms.

Charles sets his glass down on the counter and opens the fridge, listening in on Max’s heated conversation. That’s what he expects it to be; heated. He expects to hear him angry, but what he definitely doesn’t expect is to hear Max trying to speak French – a very heavily accented French.

“Je ne, uh, parle — shit — pas français…”

Charles raises an eyebrow, head still buried in the fridge, obviously taking way too long to make it believable that he’s only there to get a refill.

“Mrs. Corvetto, I don’t speak French… Je ne parle pas français!”

Charles can’t take it any longer. Max starts to get frustrated, he can hear it in the tone of his voice. He closes the fridge and turns to the Dutchman. He raises his hand to wave at Max, grabbing his attention. Pointing to the phone, he asks, “Need any help?”

Max lets out a sigh, lowering the phone from his ear to hand it over to Charles. “Thank fuck. It’s my neighbor. Normally she speaks English, but she’s freaking out and I don’t know why. She never calls me, only when there’s an emergency.”

“Mrs. Corvetto, you said?” Charles asks as he takes the phone, already hearing the frantic voice of Max’s neighbor coming through the device and he hasn’t even put it anywhere close to his ear. When Max nods, he brings the phone up, making sure not to bring it too close to his ear, before he kind of shouts, “Madame Corvetto?”

He doesn’t get a direct reply from the woman, but what he does hear makes his blood run cold. He freezes on the spot, arm with the phone lifted in the air, hovering somewhere near his head. Charles just stares at Max as Mrs. Corvetto continues to shout over the phone in rapid French.

“Oh, God, what is it?” Max groans. “It’s Mr. Corvetto, right? I knew it. I’m telling you, never move into an apartment next to elderly people. It’s just– Why does she call me? What the hell can I do? Doesn’t she need to call an ambulance or something? Or, I don’t know, her family, or–”

“Max.” Charles interrupts Max’s ranting. He ends the phone call, cutting off Mrs. Corvetto’s panicked yelling with a simple press of his thumb. He stares at the blue-eyed man in front of him. “Your apartment is on fire.”

#lestappen #lestappen fic #charles leclerc/max verstappen #max verstappen/charles leclerc #my writing #The Nights Are Long (But It's Easier Together)#i am so proud of myself

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magpiefngrl · 2 months

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20 Questions for Writers

Thank you for the tag @hoko-onchi-writes! Great way to spend a lazy Sunday morning :)

Username: magpie_fngrl

1. How many works do you have on A03? 54

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 392,045

3. What fandoms do you write for? I've mostly written drarry. I'd started as a pynch writer (TRC) and lately I've written a bunch in other fandoms.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? all drarry:

dirtynumbangelboy

The Miseducation of Draco Malfoy

The Full Monty

Through the Looking Glass and What Draco Found There,

9 ½ Days

5. Do you respond to comments? I do my best. I made a decision back when I posted a lot of stuff and got more comments than I could handle that I would only reply to the comments on the last chapter of a multi-chapter fic. Other than that, I try my best to reply to everyone.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I wrote a Major Character Death fic (The Death You Carry). Can't get angstier than that.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Most of my fics end happy, but now that I think of it they're mostly HFN in romance-genre speak. Happy For Now aka the fic ends with them as a couple, kissing or touching for example, the Ever After is implied but not explicit. Two fics which end with H/D living together, and thus more committed to each other, are Hush, darling and The Boy Who Died. These are also angstier than my other fics, which makes the happy ending sweeter imo.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not hate per se. I've received demanding comments ("Can you write more? Another sex scene? And make it mpreg?") or comments like "I like your story but I can't read on because you have X topping". Not hate. There was a time, though, that I got several comments about how stupid/annoying/an arsehole Harry is, which reflect an attitude I used to see in fandom, where Draco is perfect and Harry is a bumbling fool and the minute he says something sharp to Draco he becomes an arsehole and should be screamed at. Needless to say, I hate this kind of interpretation. I deleted a couple of these comments, I just couldn't have them on my page. It was the reason I de-activated comments on all my fics for some time.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? The sexy kind, I hope LOL

Serious answer: I have written explicit sex scenes, although I tend to be more vague rather than write a play-by-play description of what is happening. I mean, there is some of that, but not as detailed as it can be. I don't know how to explain it better in English, sorry. Anyhow, I love sex scenes, I love reading them, I enjoy the challenge of writing them, and I think what I like best in what I read (and thus I try to emulate) is when a sex scene reveals the emotional state of these two people rather than just say whose dick does what.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I haven't! A couple of years ago I got a few asks about wangxian and drarry meeting up and although it was fun to reply to the asks and imagine how it would take place, I don't think I'll ever write it.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Someone screenshot dnab and posted it on instagram. The whole 40k fic. If there have been others, I don't know.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes, a few.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? I haven't and I'm not sure I could. I don't think my writing process would lead to successful collaborations. If I were to imagine it, the easiest for me would be that each writer has their own POV (I'd write Draco, the other person Harry, for instance) and we'd have a general idea but not a strict outline and we'd write it like a relay race: I'd post something, they'd write the next part, then me etc.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? I tend to move on from fandoms, so it used to be pynch, then drarry, now wangxian. I don't have a lot of time for fandom these days so I'm not as obsessed with a ship as I used to be. I love all my babies equally.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I started a fic with a magical university of sorts, or rather 8th year but they'd be more like uni students than normal school students, and Draco was a Veela whose mate was Astoria. Not sure where it would all go, but well--it won't go anywhere now, because I have so many other WIPs that take precedent.

16. What are your writing strengths? I'm decent at dialogue and I've been told my fics have great atmosphere. Occasionally I write an unusual turn of phrase and people comment on that. My fics are fairly short, but I've been told that they have a lot more story than the reader expected because of the word count, and I think that's because I edit ruthlessly.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Plotting is my main problem. I pants my stories and it takes me forever to figure out what happens next. I also lack confidence and doubt everything while writing, which isn't a writing weakness exactly, but it does affect my writing.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? It's cool. I like it.

19. First fandom you wrote for? The Raven Cycle. I was mad about pynch.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? Currently 9 ½ Days but I have a very, very soft spot for The Boy Who Died.

Tagging: @lettersbyelise @lucifergraced @coriesocks @wolfpants @julcheninred @nerdherderette @lqtraintracks if they wanna!

#tagged #writer questions #thank you hoko!

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xelasrecords · 1 year

Text

As Daylight Comes

Han Jumin x MC

Jumin and MC have been married for a while, and their friendship with Jihyun is stronger than ever, so what better way to spend their morning together than to have breakfast with a side of teasing and musing on life?

Challenging myself to write a fluffy domestic scene because I realised I rarely write one. I also wanted to write Jihyun with his good ending personality because I barely see it in fics, so here he is at his healthiest mentally.

Words: 3.8k

Masterlist Read on AO3

The two men's hushed laughter eased her awake, the morning sun a soft gleam behind her closed eyelids. The first voice was clear and deep, one that she heard every day and night spoken like an oath to her soul. The second was gentler, a pleasant lilting voice that she and her husband often heard in their regular calls. She smiled to herself and threw the covers aside; she had already known who she would see before reaching the doorway. They were the sounds that she knew well and loved.

At the dining table, Jumin, her Jumin, was sitting with his back facing her, the sleeves of his navy sweater rolled up. He was leaning forwards, engrossed in telling what she was sure to be a fascinating idea he had recently thought of and possibly should not ever be acted upon. Jihyun was sitting on the other side, his head ducked in an attempt to smother his laughter, mint hair catching the glimmer of sunlight that passed through the floor-length windows as he moved.

Her heart felt whole at the sight of their dearest friend. Finally, they were together. They did not have to painstakingly arrange calls that were always cut too short by their own lives anymore.

Watching them, she didn't think it was possible for them to be any less content than they were now and almost didn't want to intrude. Jumin's sincere laugh, the unrestrained kind only she could pull out, was floating across their spacious home. But she knew them, and knew that they would rather her join them and make their happiness complete. Time did not wear out their love for her, or her love for them. It strengthened their bond, pulling them in tighter than ever.

She could never grow tired of it. It was a feeling she had become accustomed to, yet still marvelled at the wonder, the near impossibility of it.

She padded across the room, the light granite floor cold beneath her feet, and slid her arm around Jumin's shoulders. "Wonderful morning everyone. I wasn't aware we had company." She pressed her lips against his mussed black hair, catching a faint whiff of fresh wild cedar. Jihyun, having seen her approach, visibly brightened and gave her a wide smile, one she graciously returned.

With one hand around her waist, Jumin pulled her onto his lap and kissed her shoulder, sliding up the thin strap of her loose top that had drooped down. "The company had stopped by unannounced."

Jihyun looked sheepish. "I'm sorry we woke you up. I thought we had been quiet enough."

"I'm honestly furious that you didn't wake me up earlier," she said good-naturedly. "Were you just going to leave if I didn't?"

"Jumin told me how you had to stay up all night for work. I didn't want to disturb you."

She waved it away and picked up a turkey sandwich in front of her, eating it with enthusiasm. "Disturb me all you want. I welcome it."

"Are you sure you don't need more rest?" Jumin murmured into her ear, both arms circling her waist. "I could force him to stay until you wake up later. Glue him to the chair with a powerful adhesive or a magic spell. I may not be the pioneer of creativity, but I have brought several creative projects to fruition. I could think of something."

"With determination comes great result?" she suggested.

"Exactly. There is no reason I can't attempt sorcery if nothing else works."

She turned around and winked. "I could help you with the enchantment."

He sighed into the crook of her neck. "This is why I married you, my exceptional wife. You are ever supportive and full of love."

Jihyun smiled despairingly into his slice of sandwich. "Why are you two the way you are?"

She and Jumin shrugged in one coordinated movement.

As she scanned the table for more food, she realised there were a variety of sandwiches and fruits spread across the marble top. Silently, she sent Jihyun her gratitude for bringing an abundance of anything other than pancakes. However much she loved Jumin, she was quite sick of slathering strawberry jam or maple syrup or even more strawberries on the pancakes he made.

The fruit assortment interestingly lacked strawberries too.

"This sandwich is good, Jihyun. Did you make this?" She examined her second helping of a toasted cheese sandwich in her hand. The cheese was still oozing when she bit into it.

He grinned. "Ah, it is?"

She performed a dramatic moan. "Orgasmically so."

She held back her laugh at the mischievous glint in his sea-green eyes. Truthfully, she might have sent a text to Jihyun to save her from a lifetime of pancake breakfast. And he might have responded to her plea with utmost seriousness and come to her rescue the very next day.

It was a possibility that they might have conspired on something that would have mildly offended Jumin, yes.

Some secrets were best kept as secrets.

But Jumin, blissfully oblivious, was studying her with extreme amusement. "I have to remind you that we skipped our morning sex. If you are heavily aroused, you only need to ask." His voice had dropped low, his breathing fanning her neck. "I will give you everything that you desire. It is what I wish for myself as well."

She leaned against his chest and whispered, "Make it an afternoon quickie. Let's do it later."

"So you're giving me the order to wait." His hands ran up the inside of her bare thighs until they reached the lining of her shorts, his clothed knees nudging her legs open. She suppressed a shiver; familiar was his touch to her, a pleasurable rush still spread across her skin whenever he did it. "What do I get in return? A fair bargain has to benefit both parties."

She squirmed against his thighs on purpose, knowing the friction would crack his composure. "You get a lesson in patience," she drawled, voice low and raspy, "and I get to watch you exercise your iron will. I will be satisfied. Didn't you want me to feel good?"

Jumin looked scandalised. "In nowhere would that be constituted as a fair deal, and patience is a virtue I have long been practising. I wish to propose an alternative."

"Shall I take my leave?" Jihyun interrupted. "I don't have to see to know what you two are doing down there."

"Nothing!" Hastily, she put away Jumin's hands and grabbed Jihyun's over the table before he could stand, ignoring Jumin's huffing. "Please stay. We are two very chaste adults."

Jihyun's smile was wry. "That's not what I heard about your sex life."

"You told him?" She whirled on Jumin. "I thought you'd have more respect for my intimate life. This is a breach of my privacy. I'd never got a betrayal of this magnitude, and from my own husband!"

"Interesting," Jumin said. "Would you like to know how he reacted when I recounted our latest session? He was not surprised. Not one bit. In fact, he was too ready to supply a reaction. I have to wonder if he had prepared himself beforehand."

She narrowed her eyes at Jihyun. "You traitor."

"I was just trying to be supportive, but I suppose Jumin has always been too good at reading my intentions." Jihyun shook his head regretfully.

"That's right," Jumin said, a smug tone in his voice. He was always proud when he could prove their decades of friendship through their mutual understanding.

With a scoff, she shifted to the chair beside him and scooped a handful of blueberries and an egg sandwich into his plate before doing the same for Jihyun. When she looked down, she saw that Jihyun had filled hers as well. For a while, the dining room was silent as they dug into their meal, save for the cutleries clinking against plates and fabrics rustling when they helped each other with more food and drinks.

She could live like this every day, she thought. It wouldn't be so bad to have Jihyun here more often. Jumin was one of the kindest people she had ever known, but he had edges that remained sharp and could only soften in the presence of his best friend. Jumin with Jihyun was fully at peace, and Jihyun was no different. He spoke his mind without holding back and did not hesitate to share his art with him. Between them was a sense of safety she never found between anyone else.

Anyone else except her own friendship with him.

Jihyun meant just as much to her, and she to him. They would sacrifice their sleep if one was ringing up the other in dire trouble, despite being on opposite sides of the globe. And sometimes Jumin would leave them to talk into the night while he slept, knowing they had things they were more comfortable sharing alone, though he would chide her for the black rings under her eyes in the morning and fuss over her.

Jumin was never jealous. Rather, he was delighted that his wife got along well with his best friend and had no qualms announcing it whenever he could, not caring if anyone thought it strange. To him, the joy of seeing the two people he loved the most being close surpassed other petty emotions. She could read it on his face. It would have broken his heart if they found each other's company distasteful.

She wondered if it was the same for Jumin, if he could see that she cherished Jihyun and had missed him too. She might have entered their lives later, but time did not dictate closeness. If someone were to be taken out of the equation, the other two would be left flailing, stranded with half of their string cut.

She felt the three of them were always better when they existed in the same space.

"Did you know why he came here?" Jumin cut through her thoughts and gestured at Jihyun. "He claimed to have forgotten his camera. Under normal circumstances, I would have accepted it as a reasonable excuse, except he has done this three times."

"You said it like it's a bad thing. Do you not want me to drop by?" Jihyun asked mildly.

Jumin raised his brows. "You're an artist. You could have come up with a more creative excuse."

She straightened up and looked right into Jihyun's lively eyes. They were the eyes that had freed themselves from the sorrow that plagued his younger, more foolish years. "Ignore this cynical guy. He doesn't know that joy is found in little things. I, for one, commend you for your intricate planning. That is some strategising and determination you have shown. Anyone who doesn't appreciate your effort shouldn't be eating your food." She glared at Jumin.

"Thank you for recognising my effort, but that isn't all." Jihyun paused. "I also missed you. I enjoyed my trip, but the places I visited made me yearn to come back because you weren't there. Of course, I speak including you, Jumin."

"I see I have been demoted to an afterthought," remarked Jumin.

"That is what you get for acting all mighty." She rose to fetch a glass of orange juice from across the table, Jumin holding back the front of her loose white top as she leaned, but Jihyun was faster. He had noticed what she had been eyeing before and placed the glass in front of her. She smiled gratefully at him; she doubted there was anyone more eager to help than Jihyun. It was a quality she and Jumin liked to discuss admiringly among themselves.

Jumin settled back into his seat and picked a grape from the centre platter. "I don't appreciate the poor translation of my intention."

"At least you know you can rhyme," she said and turned to Jihyun. "You have to know how much he pined for you. He stared out the window like a Victorian lady waiting for her husband to be relieved from his duty. I thought he was one second away from being locked in the attic." She shook her head solemnly. "So close to being driven to madness from yearning."

Jumin let out a flat gasp. "Why, I never."

"Nevertheless," she pounced on, "I am not without conscience and virtue to lock anyone away, especially when that person is someone of my own heart, so I had no choice but to persist. Have some pity on me, I beg you!" She clutched at her chest.

Jihyun burst into laughter, which produced a small smile from Jumin. "All right, I'll admit I missed you," Jumin gave in. "I could use seeing you more often."

A brief look of wonder flashed in Jihyun's eyes, searching Jumin's and was quickly reassured when they recognised the familiar fondness in his unwavering gaze. The steel in Jumin's grey eyes dared Jihyun to refute it, but he wouldn't, not this grown version of him.

Some people struggled with getting used to being loved unabashedly. She recalled when Jihyun was a younger boy and how he would rather stake himself than accept the love he was given, but that was long ago. Time and their persistence in loving him had encouraged him to be brave, and Jihyun himself had learned to allow people to love him. The vulnerability of baring your soul to love someone could be unbearable, but believing you were worthy of love could be just as unthinkable.

She was glad he had Jumin to rely on when they were children, and Jumin had him to be his true self with. What had been a constant, stumbling search for faith in each other had grown into intrinsic trust.

"How long can we do this still?" she wondered aloud. "Sometimes I feel like we haven't changed—we have eaten together like this more times than I could count—but we're not who we were anymore, are we?"

"Four hundred and five times," Jumin stated. "Barring other types of gatherings and casual hang-outs. A lot of things have happened since the first one." He lifted her hand against his lips and kissed the back of it reverently. She remembered the time before they fell for each other and how after they had, their connection had become more intimate than she had thought possible.

"You keep track, I should've guessed." Jihyun's voice held infinite softness. "It was an eternity ago. Goodness, we were such wide-eyed kids then."

"Perhaps the time we have left doesn't matter as much as the time we have shared together—the time we are sharing now," Jumin said. "But sometimes as I'm living in the present, I can already see how we will be entombed in history, though it's a memory that I will look back on fondly."

"Please don't say 'entombed'," she said. "Memories don't die just because they have passed. We keep them alive, just like this. We'll continue to talk about nonsense and eat good food and be there for one another. Otherwise, we wouldn't have anything to hold on to when life gets hard."

"Or maybe we won't do this forever. We can't tell what the future holds," Jihyun mused. "Change is the natural order of the universe, but in this life full of changes, I can always count on you two to be here for me, to make me happy." He smiled at them, the corner of his eyes crinkling. Jumin nodded contentedly, and she laid her head on his shoulder, sharing his peace.

"I certainly would be appalled if I stayed the same all these years." She shuddered. "I like that we change together, that our new shapes still fit each other somehow. I've grown out of enough friendships to know that this isn't always the case."

"I'm afraid I cannot comment much on friendships." Jumin frowned. "My friendship with Jihyun is the only true one that I have, but it wouldn't be complete if you never came into my life—our lives. I will always be thankful for that. You brought us all closer."

With an arm propped on the table, she watched Jumin's thoughtful expression and eased the crease between his forehead. He had spoken aloud of what she was thinking about earlier, the completeness of the bond between the three of them. It was funny, how sometimes it was as if his mind and hers were intertwined. The time they spent together has left an indisputable mark, seemingly without her notice.

Time was often like that. One day you clambered through life with cuts on your knees and found yourself standing on steadier ground, wiser but irreparably changed in the next. It did not beat on a steady rhythm; it sprinted and languished at the exact moments you wished it not to.

"Everything he said was true," Jihyun reached over the table to squeeze her hand. It was soft in her touch. "You're a blessing on earth. I was right to come here right away."

"Meeting us is always the right decision," said Jumin adamantly.

"Except if he's asking you to translate an ancient necromancy spellbook that's ninety-nine per cent fake, then maybe it isn't a good idea to be here," she added.

"Ninety-nine per cent?" Jumin sounded offended. "It's disrespectful to equate a book that holds mystical wonders unimaginable to mankind to a lousy disinfectant."

Jihyun ignored him and looked at her warily.

"He made me light up pungent-smelling candles around the house with him. I still don't want to know what kind of candles they were." She grimaced at the memory. "We had to move out for a few weeks until the smell disappeared."

Jihyun wrinkled his nose at Jumin. "What dead creature were you trying to raise?"

"A mouse that my bodyguard accused Elizabeth the Third has killed. Petty murders are below a lady as dignified as she," he declared with conviction. "I should know."

A look of surprise passed over Jihyun's face. "And you care enough about the mouse to call it back from death?" he asked slowly.

"I needed to put it under interrogation to extract the exact cause of its death," Jumin said. "It was imperative that I clear Elizabeth the Third's name."

"Naturally," she cut in cheerfully. "When one dies, one can simply be revived and questioned about one's lethal injury. No worries whatsoever that recalling the event might be traumatic to them."

"Did it, um"—Jihyun struggled to find the right word—"come alive?"

Jumin sighed in defeat. "I would have to try again another time."

"You would not." Her tone was severe. "You will either lose the truth of Elizabeth the Third's innocence or me. Your choice."

Jumin looked tortured, but she did not budge. Jihyun's eyes danced between them with amusement.

Eventually, Jumin splayed his hands out in resignation. "I shall comply with your wishes."

She patted his arm. "It's for the best. You don't want to accidentally exorcise the whole world with your corpse-raising activities. I can only support your hobbies up to a point, love."

At that, Jihyun chortled into his drink and Jumin shot him a betrayed look, though he still offered his handkerchief to him. "Not that I don't believe in you," Jihyun said when he calmed down, "but your experiments tend to be disastrous. Maybe you should consider those around you. We're the ones who have to deal with your mess."

Jumin crossed his arms. "You two have no loyalty towards me, especially you, dear lovely wife." He tilted his head at her. "You're supposed to be the love of my life. My sworn life partner for eternity."

She rolled her eyes. "Please, I did agree to glue Jihyun earlier. Was that not enough?"

"This is about me now?" asked Jihyun.

She produced a coy smile. "You're always in our hearts."

Jumin, seeing the opportunity to shift the blame, quickly said, "That's true."

"You two have sadistic hearts," Jihyun pointed out.

"Don't even try to deny that sadism isn't what you're into," she said and grinned when his cheeks heated up. "I know about your fantasies too."

Unfortunately, Jumin took this moment to inspect the table and made an astute observation, cutting off Jihyun's stammering. "It has occurred to me that we have too many sandwiches and no pancake in sight."

Her and Jihyun's attention snapped on each other, eyes widening in horror.

"Did you know how easy it is to make a strawberry pancake, Jihyun? We could eat it every day," Jumin went on.

"We could, yes," Jihyun said tactfully, "but it doesn't mean we should. Anything too much could make you sick, my friend."

"And I'm full," she chimed in. "Maybe next time?"

"She did eat a lot earlier," Jihyun said.

"Did you?" Jumin stared at her with suspicion.

She leaned back and rubbed her stomach. "A whole lot. If you force me to eat, I'd have no choice but to vomit everything onto your lap. That would disrespect Jihyun's hard work on packing all this food, and I'd be sick and have to eat again—which would be a major annoyance with a burned throat—and you'd have to change into stripeless pants."

Jumin looked puzzled. "But I have other striped pants."

"Not if I used all of them to clean up the vomit."

He sighed but relented. "If you say so."

When Jumin averted his gaze, she breathed out a silent air of relief and felt Jihyun nudging her foot beneath the table, a playful twinkle in his eyes. His lips were pressed into a flat line, fighting the smile threatening to break his sympathetic ruse. She prodded his foot back and gave him a light shrug.

Not long after, Jihyun would have to leave for yet another thing and she and Jumin would have to count the days until the next time they met. But it was not their concern yet. Right now, the murmurs of their talk and the music of their laughs were enough for her. There was nothing to complain about when they made her happy.

Distance and frequency of meetings did not matter. She could have one minute with them together and still be satisfied, however temporary the satisfaction might be. A mere minute would make her yearn for more until they piled up to make an infinite, but she was not demanding. Whatever little time they could carve out of their routine was enough.

This was good. They were happy and radiant and comfortable that she allowed herself to believe that it could last forever.

And it would. Their love would never wane.

Footnotes:

One thing I love about their friendship is how honest they are with their appreciation. They're not ashamed of showing that they care, and their elegant linguistic style (though V's is more casual than Jumin's) makes it easy to write their vulnerable feelings just as they are. They don't toughen up their words or purposely censor them when they get emotional. They're fluent in articulating their feelings, and I think this would be even more natural when they've all been close for a long time.

The domestic scene challenge was made easier since I was vibrating with giddiness to express more love for Jumin and V. I'm the happiest when I write about love and them. Grinning maniacally every time I type their story out.

Before anyone comes at me, I don't think Jumin would be jealous. He could be possessive when he's gripped by his darker thoughts, but in this phase of his life, he's stable. He's secure in his marriage, he has a grounded relationship that's nurtured over the years with MC, and he shares a safe emotional space with V. Everyone is at their best here. The three of them have complete trust and respect for each other.

When I first started writing here, I used to think I have to make the MC's personality neutral enough so that most readers could relate, but now it's free real estate. I do whatever I want.

I was nostalgic about my college days' friendship, hence the more sombre tone in the middle. It feels natural in my friendships to joke around and make sexual quips in one moment and reflect on life in the next. I wanted to recreate that safety and sense of belonging I used to feel.

This was supposed to be finished earlier but I suddenly went through a friendship breakup during the editing stage, so I couldn't find it in me to write about the joys of friendship when I just severed one of mine. She was my close friend for almost a decade. I still think about her from time to time.

Buy me a glass of something that's definitely not coffee because I can't stand it but it is the website's name if my story touches you in some way? No worries if you don't. I'm still grateful you've read all the way through here.

#experimenting my ot3 dynamic #well this isn't an ot3 per se but i love these men #xela writes #jumin x mc #jihyun kim platonic #mystic messenger #jihyun kim #jumin han #mystic messenger v #jumin han fluff #jumin han comfort #jihyun kim comfort #mysme #mystic messenger fanfic #jumin han fic #jihyun kim fic

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